


rang de basanti (color my world)

by Fanficchica



Series: Rang De [1]
Category: TharnType the Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eventual Smut, Let's see how this goes, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Platonic Soulmates, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Sexual Abuse, Soul Bond, Swearing, Underage Rape/Non-con, it is now smut, safe sex cause we do that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 34,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanficchica/pseuds/Fanficchica
Summary: In a world where people find their soulmate and the gift of color through touch, Type Thiwat is an outcast. His past has ensured that he will never let another touch him and he promises himself that he will never have a soulmate.But then...Type has always been bad at keeping his promises.or...yet another soulmate au no one asked for featuring our fave boys ;)
Relationships: Champ/Techno (Love By Chance), Tharn Thara Kirigun/Type Thiwat Phawattakun
Series: Rang De [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1794151
Comments: 273
Kudos: 792





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Aloha mi amigos! COVID 19 can go fuck itself but the one beautiful thing it brought me was TharnType The Series! MewGulf are now the loves of my life, I’m attempting to learn Thai so I can watch them during SEASON 2 (YES THANK YOU JESUS!) and if I ever hear that they’ve been harmed, there will be hell to pay.
> 
> That being said, here’s an AU from a prompt I had sitting in my files. I’d seen this prompt a long time ago and finally inspiration struck and this has come out of it. 
> 
> A couple of things to note: our boys are all still in college; Type was still sexually abused but instead of being homophobic, he just hates the idea of anyone touching him. Lhong is not a bad guy in this; he’s touched Tharn enough to know they’re not soulmates so I’m taking him as the cute little nymphet he was before we realized he’s twisted.
> 
> The title comes from a Bollywood film of the same name; the literal meaning is paint me with the colors of spring and it just seemed to fit ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Last thing is a huge big ass thank you to the lovely mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110 who agreed to beta this for me and has been serving me TharnType wonderfullness in her fics! Please make sure you check her stuff out! 
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters of TharnType do not belong to me; those rights belong to the delightful P’Mame who deserves a fucking kingdom.

_Prompt: imagine a world where everything is black and white; until the day you meet your soulmate._

“Oh sweetheart look! Look at that blue sky! Have you ever seen anything so _vibrant_?” 

_No. No I haven’t_ ; thinks Type as he quickly sidesteps the happy couple and stifles the urge to look up. He knows that all he’ll see is a light grey sky and white circle against it that he understands to be the sun.

Black, white and grey; those are the only colors he’s ever known. He’s heard of other colors and knows they paint the world around him. He knows that his eyes are apparently brown, his mother’s favorite lipstick is dark red and his father loves using the vines of the golden shower tree on their table. But that’s it. He’d heard of these colors but he’s never seen them because Type does not have a soulmate.

Children are born into the world without the gift of color and when they meet their platonic soulmates, the harsh tones of black and white soften into greys. But when someone meets their romantic half, the world bursts into various and beautiful unknown hues and shades. His parents are soulmates and so their worlds are full of color; vibrant, bright, loud and beautiful.

Types seen it when people meet their romantic soulmates; a single touch and then suddenly two people are bent over, overwhelmed as their eyes attempt to adjust to color. He’s also seen when someone loses their soulmate; the scream of grief as they reach out to nothingness as the colors around them fade back to black and white.

When Type was 5, he’d met his platonic soulmate. 

_He’d been at the beach with his father and his football had rolled too far into the water. Before he could run to get it, another small boy had waded in and brought it back to Type._

_As their fingers touched, Type yelped as the black and white in his vision relaxed into greys. And then he was grinning and holding his hand out to Khom, who looked just as happy as he felt, “My name’s Type; you’re my best friend! You have to help me find my soulmate now.”_

It all changes when he’s 11. 

Type takes the idea of soulmates and buries it deep in the dark recesses of his mind. As he lays heaving over the toilet bowl, tears blurring his grey vision; the memory of large sweaty hands grasping at his face and tearing his clothes sweeps over him and he resigns himself to a monochromatic life. 

Because now he knows he’ll never be able to have another’s hands on him. Soulmates are found by touch and now Type goes out of his way to ensure that he never has skin on skin contact with another human. 

Besides, who’d ever want a tainted broken boy as a soulmate?

Now at 19 and in college, his attitude towards soulmates remains the same: he does not want them. Some things have changed though; being on the football team with Techno meant that he was constantly touched but after the very time Techno had slapped his back and the world had remained a firm grey, Type had relaxed his strict no-touchy rule around certain people.

Besides, Techno had found his own romantic soulmate in Champ and he very firmly believed that he and Type were platonic soulmates. Type’s argument that people only had one platonic soulmate often fell on deaf ears.

The buzz of his phone yanks Type out of his thoughts, just in time for him to neatly swerve around a woman who rushes past him with hands full of shopping bags. Rolling his eyes and muttering at people who have no regard for personal space, Type fishes out his phone to see Techno’s name flash across the screen.

“Ai’shit No. I’m on my way.”

“You said that ten minutes ago and I still see no sign of you! I’m hungry!” Techno’s whine comes over the phone.

“Yeah, well…no one told you to choose the fucking mall to have lunch. We could have gone to the auntie’s place where we always go. You know I walk slower in malls cause-”

“Yes, cause you don’t like touching. Just hurry up please! My stomach’s cramping.” Type scowls as Techno interrupts him but he does pick up his pace. Another bend and he catches sight of the noodle restaurant that’s currently housing his friends.

“Okay fine I see the place. Be there in a minute. Your cramping stomach can wait that long you hog.” Techno squawks at the insult but Type’s already ended the call with a smirk.

He jogs the last few paces and as he nears, he can see Techno and Champ through the window. Techno’s slumped against Champ’s shoulder with a pout as he rubs his stomach but the pout melts into a grin as Champ laughs beside him and leans down to press a kiss against the other’s hair.

It’s a sweet gesture and one that causes a spike of pain in Type’s chest. That’s not something he can have. Even now, 8 years later, he dreads the idea of someone touching him.

 _And yet_ , his traitorous mind thinks, _he craves that touch._ He wants it; wants a soft hand in his hair, caressing his jaw, curling around his hand. He wants pokes in his side, tight hands on his waist, kisses on his chest, feet on his lap. Type wants that love.

And he’s never going to have it because every traitorous want is defaced by the memory of _that_ man; of how he touched Type.

The memory of it makes his eyes burn but Type takes a deep breath and shoves the feeling, the _want_ away.

He’ll go his whole life in black, white and grey if he has to and that is what he tells himself as he reaches out for the door of the noodle house.

The cold A/C is welcoming as Type steps in and he sees Techno grin at the sight of him and wave him over. He throws up two fingers in salute and gingerly makes his way to the booth his friends have occupied. As he walks closer, he sees the table beside his friends have been occupied by two boys, around his age.

They’re done with their meal and in the dim light of the restaurant, Type can make out an earring glinting against the light grey hair. His companion is also out of his seat and is much taller than his seated frame suggests; he seems engrossed in his phone and he’s being guided by a light touch to the arm as they maneuver around the tables. 

As they come closer towards Type, he slows to a stop and moves, wanting to let them pass him by. The shorter man gives him a polite nod in thanks and then they’re gone and he’s free to move towards his friends. But something catches his eye on the recently vacated table and Type realizes that one of the men has left their wallet on the table.

He picks it up, turns around and calls out to them, just as the taller one pats his pockets and turns around too. His eyes fall onto the empty table and then to the wallet Type’s holding in his hands and then onto Type.

And the world _explodes_ into color.

_Ooo_


	2. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: And now we get Tharn’s POV. God I love this boy. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorited this work! I'm glad you guys are enjoying this because we got a while to go. I think I'm gonna post a chapter every two days or so...this entire thing has already been written, revised and betaed to no end so posting is gonna be a breeze. I just want to draw it out for my own amusement :D 
> 
> Never gonna forget my darling beta: mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110! She gives me life and so much encouragement <3
> 
> Disclaimer: Not my boys; not my world. Just filled with my love.

The only reason Tharn’s even out right now is because Lhong thinks fresh air will do him good.

Tharn thinks Lhong can go fuck off.

He’s said as much to the shorter boy but Lhong had simply thrown a clean shirt at his head, grabbed Tharn’s wallet and keys ( **_Tharn’s_ ** wallet and keys!) and dragged him out of his bedroom.

Tharn decides he’s going to sulk in his car ( **_his_ ** car, Lhong - you absolute fucker) as they drive to god knows where. The radio plays in the background and Lhong chatters over it about the band and the new songs they’ve come up with and will Tharn look over his lyrics?

Tharn says yes and he lets Lhong’s babble turn into a buzz in the back of his mind as his eyes turn to the grey scene zooming by and his thoughts turn back to Tar.

Tar marks the fourth person who Tharn’s been with and who ends up leaving him because he’s found his soulmate. He can still remember their last date; a new coffee shop Tharn had wanted to try and he’d stood in line with Tar to get their drinks. They got to the counter and Tharn had ordered, handing over his card to Tar so that he could move to the side and choose something to eat.

He’d watched as his boyfriend’s fingers touched the barista’s, watched as both of them yelped in pain and clenched their eyes shut, watched as Tar opened his eyes and looked around as if seeing the world for the first time, watched as his boyfrie- no- _ex-boyfriend_ looked over to the barista with happy tears in his eyes.

And all Tharn could do was watch as yet again, someone leaves him. He’s never faulted them for finding their soulmates, of course. How do you blame a system that no one understands, that is as old as time itself? You cannot come in between soulmates. He’s heard of people that try to resist it, that want to create their own bonds in life. They don’t always end well.

All Tharn can do is wish Tar good luck and press one last kiss to his head before walking out of the coffee shop and towards home, towards his monochromatic life.

Lhong’s abrupt braking rudely yanks him out of him out of his melancholy. Tharn has a second to realize they’re in a mall parking lot before he rounds on Lhong.

“What the hell Ai’Lhong? If you’re gonna drive my car-”

“You’re thinking about Tar again. I know you are so don’t deny it.”

Tharn simply presses his lips together and looks away. He hears a sigh and then a click as Lhong undoes his seatbelt and then there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Tharn. I know you’re upset but you’ve been stuck at home for nearly two weeks feeling sorry for yourself. You go to class and you go home and that’s it. I want one day with my actual best friend and not the moping shadow covered in blankets. Please? Just one day and then you can go back to your room.”

And fuck, okay, that makes Tharn feel guilty. It isn’t Lhong’s fault that he’d gotten his heart broken yet again; in fact if anything, Lhong perhaps is the one reason he hasn’t completely descended into madness. 

So he sighs and lets his sulk melt into a small smile as he unfastens his seatbelt, “Okay fine. You win. No more mopey me.” 

Lhong’s grin is wide enough to make Tharn smile a little more and he follows his friend into the mall. Their first stop is a music store and they spend a good while there, messing around with instruments and Lhong is seriously tempted to buy a new guitar; a temptation Tharn firmly squashes when he reminds Lhong that the man is still paying off his last guitar. 

It’s a nonsensical trip honestly; they don’t do much but still Tharn finds that he enjoys himself. Being around Lhong means he’s constantly laughing and not for the first time in his life, Tharn finds himself grateful for the singer and for the distraction he provides. 

Lhong takes that moment to tug on his arm; he’s caught sight of a noodle house and has decided that now’s a good time for lunch. It’s a little past prime lunch time so the place isn't very crowded and they’re seated quickly enough at a table. 

As they eat, talk turns towards the band. Lhong seemed to have understood that Tharn wasn’t paying attention in the car because he brings up some of the same issues again. 

“We really need you to come in for a rehearsal. Tum and I have come up with a couple of new songs but you know we need your opinion. You’re the best lyricist out of us all and we could use the help.” 

The mention of Tar’s stepbrother makes him cringe; it’s part of the reason he hasn’t been going into rehearsal. He doesn’t need that reminder and most definitely doesn't want to see Tum’s _‘I told you so’_ look when he’d found out that Tar and Tharn hadn’t been soulmates but were still going to date. 

If Lhong notices his discomfort, he doesn’t mention it. He scrapes at the last bit of noodles in his bowl, “I can send you the new songs to your email so you can have a look.” 

Tharn nods at that and finishes his own meal as Lhong fishes out his phone and scrolls through. He notes a couple that have taken the booth next to him but they’re sitting on one side, so Tharn’s guessing they’re waiting for someone. 

“By the way, this meal is on you. I forgot my wallet.” Lhong admits sheepishly when Tharn turns to him with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll treat you next time!” 

Rolling his eyes, Tharn hands over his wallet and then checks his phone for the email. As he scrolls through the songs, he’s only partially aware of Lhong returning and placing his wallet back on the table. He stands up from his seat, fixated on his phone; the songs are good but he’s making notes on a couple of things that need to be fixed. 

Tharn’s intense focus is something Lhong’s used to so he simply huffs and then gently takes Tharn’s arm to guide him out the restaurant. They pass by a guy, almost as tall as Tharn; he moves to the side to give them room and Lhong thanks him with a nod.

“You want me to drive? You can keep looking over those lyrics.” 

Tharn nods, still engrossed in his phone, “Yeah. You still have my keys and wallet- wait.” 

Then his head snaps up and he’s patting his pockets. “ _Shit_ , Lhong where’s my wallet?” 

“I left it on the table for you. I thought you picked it up!” Tharn swears under his breath; he has got to stop zoning out like this! It’s not the first time he’s forgotten something behind. 

He turns around to look at their table and his fear ratchets up three notches when he sees that it’s empty. But then he sees a man standing nearby and Tharn feels relief flood him when he sees his wallet in those fingers. 

And then he’s locking onto black eyes and Tharn’s vision goes bright. 

_Ooo_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it, hate it, want more of it?  
> Come tell me in a review or come yell at me on Tumblr: indiefanficchica


	3. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: AAAHHHHH!!! YOU GUYS!!! Thank you all so much for the comments and the likes and gaaah everything! You peeps are amazing! 
> 
> This one was a little harder to write...all I had was to make them see color and then I got stuck… but apparently brainstorming with your brother about your fave BL is the way to go :D Let me know what you think! Also, we’re gonna meet someone from the novel! 
> 
> As always, my thanks and love to mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110 for her critique and awesomeness! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Don’t own them; pretty sure these two idiots own themselves.

Everything is _bright_. 

That’s the first thing Type thinks when he’s finally able to open his eyes.

The next thing he realizes is that he’s on the floor. There are hands on his shoulders and for a moment he freezes before he recognizes Techno’s voice behind him. He’s convincing people to move away and give them room.

“Ai’Type? Type! Talk to me dude! Are you okay?” 

His head hurts and Techno’s yelling in his ear is not helping so Type turns to snap at him to shut up. 

And the words get stuck in his throat. Because Techno is wearing the ugliest colored shirt he’s ever seen and that’s the first thing that tumbles out, “What fucking color is that, No?” 

Techno looks affronted for a second, “It’s neon green you aaaa- holy shit Type!! You can see color!” 

He can and it’s all too much. Colors that he’s only _heard_ of now shine bright against his retinas and even in the dim light of the restaurant, it feels overwhelming. He presses his hands against his eyes, trying to quell the slow growing headache at the base of his neck. 

And then Techno’s shaking him again, “Your soulmate! Who did you touch? Did you touch anyone?”

Type shrugs off the hand and tries to stand, leaning heavily against Champ; who is also wearing an ugly colored shirt. God, does having a soulmate mean wearing shitty colors?

“No one; I didn’t touch anyone! I was just standing here and oh god- I think I’m gonna throw up.” 

Techno looks terrified at the prospect of a nauseated Type, so Champ steps in, “Okay let’s get out of here. There are too many people and this is overwhelming for him. Techno, give those guys the wallet and I’m gonna take Type back to my car. We’ll go to a friend I know; he might be able to help.” 

Type can’t think, the ache in his head now feels like someone has taken a pickaxe to his brain. He feels weak and feverish and it’s only Champ’s arms around his waist as he’s guided out of the restaurant that keeps him upright. At one point, Type’s pretty sure he passes out because he can’t remember how they get him out of the mall and into the car. 

The next time he opens his eyes, he’s lying down on a bed in a darkened examination room and he recognizes Techno and Champ but the third man in a lab coat is a stranger to him. They’re whispering quietly to themselves and Champ is one who realizes Type’s awake and he nudges the stranger. 

The doctor gives him a small smile, “Sawadee krap, N’Type. My name is Dr. Lon but you can call me P’Lon. I’m a friend of Champ’s. He told me what happened. Is the light okay for you?” 

Type nods; the dim light has helped reduce the thundering in his head to a dull ache but he still feels like absolute shit. There’s an ache in his chest that feels an awful lot like a heart attack but he’s still breathing normally so he ignores it. 

“It’s fine. What happened to me? And what kinda doctor are you?”

“Just a general physician but I specialize in soulmates. There's a lot about soulmates that the general public does not know about and I work to help those who have issues with their bond. Speaking of which, it would seem that you have found your soulmate.” 

Type would roll his eyes but the even the thought of the action seems to give him a headache. But P’Lon seems to understand because he gives a soft laugh, “I know, I know; obvious much? But what is perhaps interesting is the fact that you did not touch anyone. Champ seems very firm about that.”

“It’s true. I didn’t touch anyone. I try not to because of- well I have my own reasons. But I didn't touch anyone and the next thing I know is color everywhere.” 

P’lon _hmms_ under his breath and then stands, “I’m going to give you a very quick check up. Just normal procedures: checking your heart rate, blood pressure; that sort of thing. It does mean that I have to touch you but I will let you know everytime I do something. Will that be okay?”

He’d rather not have the man touch him at _all_ but Type nods. He says it’s okay for Champ and Techno to be in the room with him; they’ve all changed in the locker room so he’s not concerned about that. 

P’Lon asks him to take off his shirt and the familiar fear is back but Type pushes it away. If anything happens, his friends are right there and he reminds himself that he’s not eleven anymore. One firm kick to a specific spot and he can get away from there. 

Taking a deep breath through his mouth, Type pulls off his shirt and subjects himself to the check-up. P’Lon keeps his word; before he does anything, he explains it to Type and his movements are gentle. Once done, he allows Type to put his shirt back on and has him sit up.

“Okay, all your levels are normal so I’m not too worried there. I do know you’re in pain right now, your pupils are heavily dilated. What hurts the most and when did it start?” 

“My head; before it felt like a pickaxe to the brain and now it’s more like a hammer all round instead of just one spot. My chest too, and I thought I might be having a heart attack, but my left arm isn’t numb and I’m breathing okay so I’m not freaking out about that. It started right after I could see colors. I got really nauseous too.” 

Both Techno and Champ have been quiet throughout the procedure but now Techno speaks up, “He did throw up once in the car on the way here.”

“Okay. Take me through exactly what happened in the restaurant.” 

Type does. He explains how he was careful enough not to touch anyone and though P’Lon doesn’t know his history, something tells Type that the man understands. He’s unsure how that makes him feel but he pushes it aside and continues. 

“And then I looked at the guy who’d left his wallet behind and that’s when everything went bright. I never touched anyone.” 

And then in a much softer voice full of fear, he asks “P’Lon, what’s wrong with me?” 

Because fuck, Type _is_ scared. He’s got a soulmate, something he didn’t want but now he doesn’t even _know_ who it is and he hurts and he needs answers. Techno takes that moment to sit by him, shoulders together and Type is grateful for the silent support.

P’Lon moves to the book shelf behind him, “I’ve heard about this but these cases are so very rare! One in every million kinda deal. It’s fascinating to see one in my lifetime.”

“What are you talking about?” There’s a sliver of annoyance in Type’s voice but P’Lon seems oblivious to it as he finally pulls out a thick volume and thumbs through it. 

“Like I said, the knowledge of soulmates is very limited and even specialists like myself don’t have a complete understanding. We’ve tried to document various cases but they are sporadic at best.” 

Finally he seems to find the page he’s looking for and opens it up for all three of the men to see, “See, what people know about soulmates is that they are found by touch. However, there is the rare case of finding your soulmate by sight. Even today, there are only 15 documented cases and these date back all the way to the 1800's. There could be more, but you can understand how isolated such cases are.” 

“So, you’re telling me that because I looked at that guy, I now have a soulmate? That’s fucking ridiculous!” 

Champ and Techno wince at Type’s language but P’Lon doesn’t seem fazed as he closes the book.

“Ridiculous? Yes. But entirely possible. You are what is known as zenith soulmates; where the bond is so strong and ultimate that just seeing each other brings color to life. What’s amazing to me is that you’re even coherent to speak right now.”

“Meaning?” Type can feel Techno tense next to him and there’s a hand on his, squeezing his fingers. 

“Meaning that yes, N’Type is in pain. But past cases have shown that patients have been unable to speak, think, or move without assistance. That happens when a soulmate bond is being rejected. Which is exactly what is happening to you right now.”

Type feels the breath freeze in his lungs and those words hurt more than the actual ache in his chest, “My soulmate is rejecting me?” 

He’d known; he’d _always_ known and now here was the proof. His soulmate did not want him because he was tainted and broken and disgusting and- 

P’Lon’s voice breaks through the self-deprecating thoughts, “No, N’Type. You’re rejecting him.” 

All three of their heads whip so fast that P’Lon’s sure he hears a bone crack. He hastens to explain, “Those 15 cases have been well documented especially given how rare they are and one of the first things all of them mention is that the two mates must touch in order to cement their bond. Because you left without touching them, your body and your bond takes it to mean that you’re rejecting your mate. It’s why you’re going through this right now and I don’t know what else to do other than tell you to find that man you looked at and touch him.” 

Type looks sickened and he drops his head. But he still hears P’Lon’s next words. 

“Type, there are severe consequences of not accepting a bond; history has taught us that the soulbond does not handle rejection well. You could waste away and turn comatose or worst case scenario, you could actually die. I’m sorry I don’t have better answers for you.”

_Ooo_

In the end, P’Lon prescribes some medication to help alleviate some of Type’s pain. He warns them that it’s not a solution and tells Techno and Champ that once they get the meds from the pharmacy that they can take Type home. 

As he watches the two of them head for the pharmacy, Lon wonders about Type’s bond and about the man himself. 

Even if Type were to find his mate and accept the bond, his aversion to touch would still cause issues. Lon knows there’s past trauma there; as a physician he’s seen patients of sexual abuse and he knows without a doubt that Type is a victim. All the signs point to it and Lon wishes he could do more but even he knows that Type’s path to recovery will not be smooth. 

Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair and stops by the nurse’s station for his next patient. 

“Alright, what do we have?” 

One of the older nurses picks up the chart, “19 year old male, Tharn Kirigun, no prior medical history; coming in with severe chest pain and headaches. He has sensitivity to light and color; asked Nurse Fai to cover her pink scrubs so we figured he’s newly bonded. Strange thing is, he never touched anyone an-”

Whatever she’s about to say is lost under a flurry of swears as Lon turns and runs for his new patient. It can’t be. There’s just _no way_ that this could be the same thing as Type’s could it? 

And yet it is. Because Lon steps into the room and he’s met with the same sight as ten minutes ago.

Tharn Kirigun on the bed, flushed, groaning and pinching his eyes shut to ward off his headache. His friend sits beside him and looks like he’s in hell, unable to help and and when Lon steps into the room, he’s on his feet. 

“Please help! My friend is-”

“Mr. Kirigun is going to be fine because I’m pretty sure I know what’s wrong with him. Mr. Kirigun? Can you hear me?” 

“Tharn. Call me Tharn.” The man whispers from the bed. “Can the lights go any dimmer?” 

“Of course. One moment.” 

Lon does that and in the darkened room, he sees the furrow of pain between Tharn’s eyes ease just a bit.

“N’Tharn. When you feel up to it, I’d like to get you in a sitting position and then I have some questions for you, okay?” 

A small nod and then slowly, the boy moves upright. While he’s doing that, Lon steps out for a moment and calls for Nurse Fai. 

“My last patient; Type Thiwiat? Check if he’s still in the room and get them to stay there. Tell them I said I needed them to stay; for an update on his condition. Go!” 

He ducks back into the room and is glad to see Tharn able to sit up by himself, “Alright N’Tharn. I’m going to give you a quick check up; your blood pressure, heart rate etc… and while I do that, I’m going to ask you a few questions so please bear with me. Please remove your shirt for me.” 

Tharn complies slowly and then Lon begins his checkup. 

“Do you have any prior medical issues; heart conditions, migraines and such?”

“No.” 

“Have you been platonically bonded?” 

“No.” 

“Before you were able to see color, did you happen to touch anyone?”

“Lhong was holding my elbow but he and I have touched each other before. We’re not soulmates.” 

“Last question: what exactly hurts right now?”

“My chest; kinda feels like I might be having a heart attack. And my head.” 

“Perfect!”

“Perfect? What’s so perfect about my best friend being in pain?” Lhong looks downright murderous but he sits back down when Tharn tugs at his sleeve.

“I apologise for my wording but N’Tharn, your case is very similar to one I just heard not ten minutes ago. My previous patient exhibited the same symptoms as yours and you were both in the same place. I believe the two of you are soulmates!”

“My- I have a soulmate? But how? I never touched anyone!” If there was ever the perfect mix of confusion and hope, Lon sees it on Tharn’s face. 

He grins and pats Tharn’s knee, “You, dear boy, are what is known as a zenith soulmate. Mates that find each other by sight and not just by touch. The reason you’re in pain right now is because your bond has not been cemented by touch. It’s very important for that physical connection to take place; without it, your bond thinks you’re rejecting your mate.” 

“Not to worry though, I’ve spoken to the nurse to see if they’re still here and we’ll get you two to meet. Actually, you being here does explain why both of your symptoms are not that severe. Perhaps your bond can sense the other’s presence and it’s reaching out. Tell me, do you feel anything? Other than the pain, I mean.” 

_Ooo_

Tharn feels....Tharn does not know what he feels. There’s so much going on in his head, along with the dull pounding that makes him want to smash his head through a wall. 

He’s been in that state since the moment he’d fallen over backwards onto Lhong, overwhelmed with the sudden colors. He could hear his friend’s panicked voice over the din, could see someone hand off his wallet to Lhong and when he tried to open his eyes wider to get used to his new vision, the sudden ache that had taken root at the base of his skull had intensified into what like someone drilling a pickaxe into his brain and he was ready to puke. 

Somehow Lhong gets him into his car and then they’re at a hospital and Lhong’s nearly screaming at the nurses and Tharn loves him but _god could he shut up for a second_ and _ugh why is that nurse in hot pink?_

Then he’s finally in a room and they dim the lights but it’s still not enough but Tharn doesn’t even have the strength to ask Lhong to dim them even further. All he can do is lie there on the examination table, feeling sweat prickle along his skin and then his chest is hurting and for a minute all Tharn can wonder about is if he's going to die. 

And then P’Lon comes in and the words he says are not making any sense and yet there doesn’t seem to be any other conclusion and Tharn’s left feeling both hopeful and brokenhearted. 

He has a soulmate - and how long has he been wishing, praying, _wanting_ \- but his soulmate doesn’t want him or maybe he does, but neither of them know and now P’Lon wants Tharn to see if he feels anything. 

He feels too much but he tries. He takes the pain in his head and begs it to quieten for a moment and he concentrates. Eyelids sliding shut, Tharn breathes and he waits. He doesn’t know what he’s doing but it’s not like he has any other options really-

_There!_

Just out the door and he _knows_. Something; someone is there.

Tharn slides off the bed; he can hear Lhong protesting and P’Lon is hushing him and he opens his eyes. Slides the door open. 

He squints at the lights and the colors - the colors! so many colors and he knows names and now he can put each color to its name - and the throb in his head threatens to return but he breathes through it and walks out. 

Walks past door one, door two and comes to door three. He can hear soft voices within, can hear voices behind him but all he really hears is the thudding of his heart; like it’s about to burst out of his chest. 

Here. He knows. _Soulmate_. 

Tharn grabs the handle and slides the door open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: Jesus Christ that was long. I really hope I kinda explained the whole soulmate thing a little better and if it feels a bit Mary Sue….well whatever. I stand by it. 
> 
> As always, drop me a review and subscribe to know when new chapters are out. And come see me on tumblr: indiefanficchica


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: And so we continue! TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of the sexual abuse that Type suffered. It is in italics so it’s easy to skip over. It won’t take away from your understanding of your story. 
> 
> If you have been abused before, please know that it is not your fault and that there are resources out there to help you. You are loved and you are cherished :) <3 My notes below have links to websites to anyone who’s been assaulted and would like to seek help. 
> 
> The biggest hugs to dear mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110! My darling beta...god I love her.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine! :( But I love them so much…

_ Dr. Lon says he has an update on your condition.  _

That’s what the nurse had relayed to him right as he was about to leave with Techno and Champ, and Type has a very bad feeling about it. 

He doesn’t even have a chance to protest; just as quickly as she’d come, the nurse was gone, sliding the door shut. When he’d made a move for the door anyway, Techno had stood in his way with a very disapproving look on his face. It’s not like he can’t overpower Techno but something tells Type that the shorter man might actually stand his ground this time. 

So he grumbles and eases back onto the bed with a scowl on his face. 

Champ sits near him and hands over his phone, “Here. While we’re waiting for P’Lon, you can learn to identify colors. It’s pretty easy.”

His body and mind still ache but there’s nothing better to do right now so Type takes the phone and puts names to colors. With every new color and name, a small smile begins to grow on his lips.

He finally sees red and thinks that yes, his mom probably does look beautiful with that color. He learns the different shades of green, learns what sky blue is and looks at himself in camera mode to understand that his eyes are known as chocolate brown. He looks at his own clothes; grateful for the fact that he’s apparently not worn hideous colors; a simple forest green t-shirt and blue jeans. 

Through his ever growing joy, Type still feels that dull ache in his chest and head but as the minutes pass, the ache seems to fluctuate between levels of intensity. 

He tries not to think about it too much; tries to concentrate on the phone in front of him but between one heartbeat and the next, the ache in his chest suddenly magnifies and Type gasps in pain. 

And the door slides open. 

The light from the hallway floods the dim room and Type has to squint to let his eyes adjust. He can make out a familiar silhouette of a man and as he blinks to clear his eyesight, he realizes why the man is familiar to him. It’s the guy from the restaurant, the one who’d left behind his wallet;  _ what is he doing here?  _

The man steps in and Type picks out the colors he’s wearing, now able to identify them. Black jeans, a white t-shirt and a dark blue cardigan that hangs unopened at his waist. 

Another step and Type feels himself standing too (why is he standing? why is this man looking at him like that? why is his heart hammering away in his chest? why why  _ why  _ ?).

Another step and Type wonders if anyone is going to say anything. P’Lon is watching, Techno and Champ are looking with wide eyes and the other guy from the restaurant is also there, watching his friend and Type with an indescribable look.

Another step and the guy is literally an arm’s length away from him and Type thinks he should say something and stop this ridiculousness. He opens his mouth and the man moves. 

There are hands clutching at his shoulders and before Type can shake him off, the man smiles warm and open and then there are lips on his. 

Type has a singular moment of wondering what the  _ fuck _ is happening and then  _ oh-  _

**Soulmate** . This is it. He can  _ feel  _ it. He  _ knows  _ it. 

The hammering in his head has stopped, the ache in his chest is gone and it’s been replaced by something soft and beautiful and Type can’t really think about anything other than the lips that are slowly parting his own and how his heart is beating so loud, he’s surprised no one else has heard it. 

His bottom lip is given a small nibble and the arms on his shoulders move. One slides up into his hair to grip it and the other moves down to his waist, where it finds a sliver of skin and a thumb strokes the naked flesh. 

And the memory crashes into Type like a wave. 

_ Filthy. Disgusting. Dusty.  _

_ Ropes binding his little hands to that chair. He’s struggling. He’s  _ **_screaming_ ** _ ; why won’t someone hear him?! _

_ The musty smell of grime overpowers his nose. He can’t break free. He doesn’t want to be here. _

_ “Let me go! Help! Ma! Pa! Help me please!” _

_ The squeal of the gate as it shuts and the lock slides into place.  _

_ “Come on kid, let me have a little fun with you.”  _

_ There are hands in his hair; big, sweaty and rough. It presses his cheeks; moves down his little body, finds a bit of skin that has been uncovered by his shirt moving and strokes it. _

_ “You’ll have fun, I promise.”  _

_ Lips cover his own. _

_ Type screams himself hoarse. _

Type yanks himself away, fist swinging and the guy is down with one punch to the jaw. 

Then he’s pushing past the man groaning on the floor, pushing past P’Lon and he’s running. He needs to get out; needs to vomit; needs to breathe; needs the memory to stop;  _ oh god why won’t it stop?! _

At some point, he collapses near a wall; chest heaving for breath, eyes blurry with tears and  _ fuck  _ \- the ache is back with a vengeance so all Type can do is just slump to the ground and curl around his knees. 

He’s not sure how long he stays there but he can’t think, he can’t fucking  _ breathe _ . 

He hears distant voices and then someone touches his shoulder and he flinches so hard, he smacks his head against the wall behind him. 

Through the pain and the confusion, he hears Techno’s voice slice through and that’s what he latches on to. 

“Back up. Just give him space.” 

The voices are gone and Type can hear the squeak of sneakers near him, “Ai’Type. Just breathe okay. Just breathe. I’m right here and I won’t go anywhere, okay? Just breathe. No one’s around. Just me.  _ Breathe _ .” 

After what feels like eternity, Type feels his breathing slow and he lifts his head from his knees. Techno sits by him, far enough that he’s not touching Type but close enough that if he reaches out, he could graze his shoulder. 

Techno looks at him and there’s no pity and no judgement. Just understanding and fierce protectiveness. 

“What do you need?” He asks. 

Type takes another deep breath and gives a shaky exhale, “Home. I need to go home.” 

“Alright. Champ said he’ll have the car out back. Come on.” 

He holds out his hand for Type; gives him the choice of touch. Type has a moment of hesitation but then he reaches out and feels Techno grab his hand and heave him to his feet. As they walk down the halls, Type notices people giving them a wide berth and he feels a swell of shame rise up in him. 

They saw him cry; saw him running helter-skelter through the hallways, they might have even seen him punch his soulmate- his  _ soulmate _ ! Oh god, Type can’t even fathom what  _ that  _ situation is like right now. Now the man knows that something is flawed with Type and Type feels… god he feels so much right now. 

Most of all, he feels pain and fatigue and as he steps out of the hospital and into the waiting car, Type gives himself over to it. He lays his head back on the headrest, watching the hospital grow smaller behind him and feels the ache in his chest magnify and he lets his tears fall again. 

Broken and tainted. Unloved.  _ Flawed _ .

That’s all he is. 

_ Ooo _

Tharn’s not expecting the fist that comes swinging at his face and judging by the gasps and yells of the people around him, he figures no one else did either. 

As he crashes to the floor, pain exploding in his jaw, he sees his soulmate run out and even in his pain, Tharn tries to get up and go after him. 

He’s stopped by a man shorter than him but with such rage in his eyes that Tharn sensibly decides not to push past him. 

He shoves Tharn hard against the chest, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t just go around kissing people!! Phi! Why the fuck would you-”

“Get your hands off my friend you asshole!” Lhong comes barging in and  _ oh god this is not gonna be good.  _

“Don’t call my soulmate an asshole you bastard!” The other guy is rushing towards Lhong and the only reason there’s no blows exchanged is because P’Lon finally puts himself in the middle of the whole mess. 

“Everybody calm down now! This is a hospital, not a circus and I will not hesitate to kick all of you out if you don’t let go of each other  _ now _ !” 

For a second there’s heavy breathing in the air before Tharn finally speaks, “I have to go find him- ”

“Who the  _ hell  _ are you? And why the hell were you kissing Type?” The short one speaks again from where he’s tucked under the other man’s arm. 

P’Lon groans and runs a hand down his face, “Damn it, I did not expect things to go this way.” 

“Go what way? Phi, what-”

“Champ, Techno; this is Tharn Kirigun. He is Type’s soulmate.” 

Silence. 

And then, “Fuck.” 

P’Lon lets loose a laugh; it sounds slightly hysterical to Tharn’s ears but he doesn’t particularly care. 

All he knows is that he wants to go after Type (fuck the fact that he has a name is so,  _ so good _ ) but he has a feeling that if he tries he might get punched again. 

“Fuck is quite right in this situation. Okay, Ai’Techno, go after Type. If this is a PTSD episode then I know he won’t react well if I send a staff member after him. If he’s bleeding or is in a situation where you can’t calm him down, bring him back here. Otherwise, I want you to take him home.”

The short man who’d shoved Tharn nods and he squeezes his soulmate’s hand before he’s out the door. 

“N’Tharn, let me have a look at your jaw. I think you’re going to bruise.” 

Tharn angles his face for P’Lon and hisses when he presses down on the jaw. On one hand he’s in pain. On the other;  _ Buddha help him _ \- he’s definitely got a slight hard on for the fact that his soulmate has got quite the right hook.

“Just ice it; that will help.” 

Tharn nods and looks over the man’s shoulder to Champ who opens his mouth to speak. 

Tharn beats him to it, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen; I just...I couldn’t help myself. He was there and I  _ knew _ ; Type’s my soulmate. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry.” 

Champ huffs out a laugh, “No, I get it. I know what it feels like after the first touch; you want to be so close to the point you don't know where you begin and he ends. I get it. I was the same with Techno. But dude...” At this point, Champ stops and he runs an agitated hand through his hair. 

“Type’s been through some stuff. I won’t say what; that’s for him to tell. But what I will tell you is that he’s got an aversion to touch. He avoids it like the plague. The only reason he lets me or Techno close is because we’re his friends but he wasn’t so big on it before. And around new people and in crowds; he definitely freaks out. And you kissing him like that must have triggered something.” 

“If he’s got an aversion to touch, how is Tharn supposed to be with him?” Lhong speaks up behind him and P’Lon steps in. 

“That’s for them to figure out. N’Champ, I suggest you give your Line details to N’Tharn and vice versa. I have a feeling you’ll need to be in contact. This first touch would have helped soothe the bond but it still poses risk to both N’Type and N’Tharn’s health.” 

He turns to Tharn, “I’ll reach out to some of my colleagues and see what else they know about zenith bonds. I’m sorry it turned out like this.” 

He turns to his desk to jot something down on his notepad and tears it off to hand it to Lhong, “This will help suppress the pain but it’s not a cure. Only the acceptance of the bond can do that. Good luck.” 

He directs the last bit to Tharn, squeezes Champ’s shoulder and then he leaves. Lhong takes a moment and then turns, “I’m gonna get these meds and then I’ll get the car.” 

He’s gone too and for a second, Tharn feels terrible because he knows Lhong’s hurt. Lhong’s always known they weren’t ever going to be soulmates but he knows his best friend still wished, still  _ hoped _ . 

The appearance of Type now changes all that and Tharn knows it’ll take some time but he wonders if things are ever going to be the same between him and Lhong. 

“His full name is Type Thiwat Phawattakun. He’s 19 years old and his birthday is April 2, 2001.” Champ’s voice breaks through his thoughts. 

He gives Tharn a small smile at the confused look, “Just want to give you a leg up. I’ve known Ai’Type for a couple of years now; if there’s anyone who deserves to be loved and be shown that the world is a beautiful place and full of color, it’s him.” 

“You care about him.” There’s a slight sliver of jealousy in his tone and Tharn hastens to correct it but Champ’s chuckle makes him feel better.

“He’s a little shit but he’s the best damn friend No and I have. See you around, Ai’Tharn.” 

And then he’s gone and Tharn’s finally alone with his thoughts. 

He settles on a chair in the room and breathes deep, trying once again to push that pain to a corner of his mind. He’s got other things to worry about. 

He has a soulmate. His soulmate had something happen to him; something that now makes him shy away from touch and causes him to have PTSD. Tharn kissing him was a bad first impression and now that’s going to be the first memory Type will have. Not to mention the fact that they’re true soulmates and without accepting the bond, they could both potentially die.

So all Tharn has to do is find Type, apologize to him, make him accept the bond and then make sweet sweet love to his soulmate. Easy peasy. 

Oh Buddha- Tharn is  _ fucked _ . 

His phone buzzes in his hand; Lhong’s waiting for him at the entrance. Tharn gets to his feet and squints as he slides the door open. As he steps out and walks down the hallway, his phone buzzes again. It’s from an unknown number. 

_ To tide you over until you get your shit together. Good luck. It’s Champ by the way ;) _

There’s a picture attached to the message and Tharn taps twice on the screen.

Despite the blossoming bruise on his jaw, the pain in his chest and the seemingly impossible task ahead of him, Tharn finds himself grinning at the photo of Type Thiwat. 

He saves it and still grinning, he walks out into the sunlight. He’s got a soulmate to catch. 

_ Ooo  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: If you wanted to see what picture I used; here you go! I used the second one; where our baby is chilling on the curb!  
> https://pikdo.info/p/gulfkanawut/2125371417871531721_363101074
> 
> As always, drop me a review and come freak out with me on tumblr: indiefanficchica 
> 
> Helplines:
> 
> Men’s Support Helpline (don’t give me no crap that men don’t get assaulted; I’ll drop kick you to the next fucking universe) https://www.attorneygeneral.jus.gov.on.ca/english/ovss/male_support_services/
> 
> A Help Guide: https://www.helpguide.org/articles/ptsd-trauma/recovering-from-rape-and-sexual-trauma.htm
> 
> Childhood Sexual Abuse Help: https://www.psychologytoday.com/ca/blog/somatic-psychology/201303/trauma-childhood-sexual-abuse
> 
> This offers various links for whatever you may need: https://crcvc.ca/links/


	5. v

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: You guys!!!! I am floored by all of your comments and all the love this fic is getting!! Thank you so much; you honestly make a girl's heart swell <3 
> 
> We’re back to Type’s POV for this along with a bit of Techno...whom I love and was treated a shit hand by fucking Kengkla [die bastard die] If people ship them together...what is WRONG with you???
> 
> Thanks to mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110 for her keen eye and wonderful help! Honestly this would have just stayed in my drafts if she hadn't encouraged me half the time :D 
> 
> Disclaimer: Belongs to P’Mame...just borrowing them cause I’m bored.

On the drive back to Type’s apartment, the car is silent. 

Type stays quiet from where his head rests against the window. Champ keeps his eyes to the front, but one hand stays warm in Techno’s. Techno alternates between looking at the hand in his own, looking outside and looking at his best friend in the back seat. 

He wants so much to break the silence but...he has no idea what to say and moreover, he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing. 

Techno is beyond ecstatic for his best friend; finding your soulmate is no easy task and Techno knows that there are millions of people in the world still searching for their significant other. No one deserves that happiness more than Type; that is something Techno believes with his whole heart.

But Techno also knows how hard this entire situation is for Type. He knows the trauma his best friend has gone through; the story had come out one night in their first year, when they’d both been drunk in Techno’s room. 

The words had tumbled from Type’s lips, spurred on by the alcohol running through his veins and Techno was torn between wanting to vomit and wanting to pull Type into his arms. 

When the taller man started crying, Techno swallowed down the bile in his throat and slowly brought his arm around his friend’s shoulders and they’d stayed there on the floor with Type crying into his shirt until sleep came over both of them. 

The next morning, before Type left for his own apartment, Techno laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. He felt his friend freeze under his fingers but he kept his hold loose; a signal that Type could break the grip if he needed. 

He’d kept his words short, “I’ve got your back. Always.” 

Type had never said anything but Techno saw the relief and the gratitude in his friend’s eyes. They never brought it up again and after that, there was the unspoken knowledge that if Type ever had an episode, Techno would be there to help him through it. 

Then, he’d met Champ and after the tears and kissing and touching, one of the first things Techno had told him about was Type. Not the full story; that was not for Techno to  _ ever  _ tell, but he told Champ about Type's aversion to touch and his feelings about soulmates. 

When they met at Techno’s home for dinner, Champ looked Type dead in the eye, “I don’t know what you went through and it doesn’t matter. You’re No’s friend and he’s my soulmate which makes you my friend too. So I want you to know; you got me in your corner too.” 

Type looked shell-shocked for a second before a small smile bloomed on his face and he nodded. A month after that would mark the first time he would punch Champ in the arm good naturedly and though none of them ever said it, there was the general understanding that they were a family. They would protect each other. 

But at this moment, Techno feels lost. He doesn’t know how to protect his best friend and the tension in Champ’s shoulders are an indication that his soulmate feels the same. 

Techno squeezes the hand in his and as Type’s apartment building looms closer, he finally breaks the silence. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay over? Or you could come to our apartment and we could play games and Champ can get us some of that chili congee you like so much.” 

He can see Type debating but then he shakes his head, “Thanks but...I think I just want to be alone right now. It’s been a long day; I just want to take a shower and go to sleep.” 

There’s a million reasons why that could be a bad idea and Techno’s about to voice them but then Champ stops the car in front of the building and he gives No an indiscernible shake of the head. 

Sighing but knowing that he cannot push, Techno hands over the prescription bag, “Eat a bit before you take those. And if you need  _ anything _ , you call okay?” 

Type nods, thanks Champ for the ride home and then gets out of the car. Techno and Champ watch as he slowly makes his way to the building door and then turns around. With a smile that does not reach his eyes, Type gives them a wave and disappears past the doors. 

Champ lets go of his hand but runs it through Techno’s hair instead and he leans into the touch, “It’s okay. He’ll be okay. Type’s stronger than we give him credit for and he’s gonna be able to get through this.” 

“I’m not worried about that. I know how stubborn Type can be. But what if he decides he’s too broken to be loved and decides to stay away from...whashisname?”

“His name is Tharn. I have his LINE details. Also, I might have texted him a photo of Type.” 

Techno turns wide eyes onto his sheepish soulmate, “Why the hell would you do that? What if Type wants nothing to do with him? And now you’re giving Tharn false hope and-”

Champ’s lips against his make him end in a squeak and though Techno wants to be mad at being interrupted, he is also not an idiot; he fucking loves being kissed by his lover and the bastard knows it. 

When Champ finally pulls away, Techno’s pretty sure his eyes have glazed over. Champ chuckles and kisses his forehead softly, “Ai’Tharn needs a little hope; as does Type. Which is why I’m going to send him Tharn’s details. We both know this is good for him; Tharn could very well be the person who helps him through the shit he’s suffered in the past. And Type deserves this. He deserves to have someone who loves him wholeheartedly. And we are going to help them. You with me?” 

And fuck, Techno’s not about to disagree. Because yes, Type deserves this, he deserves  _ love _ . True, he has people who love him; but the love of a soulmate? A love born in the cosmos and ordained by the unknown? Techno knows Type deserves that love without a doubt in his soul.

So he nods and presses another kiss to Champ’s lips, “Hell yes. We’re going to help our idiot friend and our new idiot friend. But seriously- who kisses someone they just met?? At least fucking say hello!” 

_ Ooo _

Type lets himself into his apartment and flicks the light switch near the door. The one room studio is immediately awash in soft white light; something Type is grateful for given the niggling headache at the base of his skull. 

He makes his way to the kitchen and lets muscle memory take over as he makes cup ramen. As the noodles cook, Type takes the moment to look around his apartment with his new vision. His parents had helped decorate it and he notes his mother’s touch with the soft red throw over his beige couch. The two paintings his dad picked are still black and white but Type can make out soft undertones of gold and silver in the abstract lines. 

His apartment is still as he takes his noodles and sits on the couch and Type sends a silent thanks to his parents for that. His father had been hesitant to let Type stay alone during his college years; he wanted his son to make friends and be around people. 

Type had shut down the idea so fiercely, he even refused to move to Bangkok and just stay in Pha-ngan for college. None of them wanted that so his mother had finally convinced his dad to let Type have his own place. When he’d made friends with Techno and then Champ, his parents had felt a little better about leaving their beloved son on his own. 

Speaking of; Type groaned into his hands. He was going to have to tell his parents and he was  _ not  _ looking forward to that conversation. 

After a few bites of his ramen, Type reaches for the pills. One after every meal was the recommended dose but he’s a desperate man; Type dry swallows two of the small green pills and in a few minutes, he finally feels the constant pain in his head and chest abate.

It’s not completely gone but it no longer takes a dominant portion of his mind and the loss of pain brings him much required comfort. And he’s going to need all the comfort he can get for this conversation. 

Type grabs his phone, settles cross legged on his couch and sends a silent prayer up; then he calls his parents. 

His mother answers after a few rings and hearing her voice brings a smile to his face; god he misses her. 

“Hey mae.” 

“Type! It’s so late; why are you calling? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Hey pa, Type’s on the phone, come here!” 

“Mae, mae! I’m fine. I’m not hurt. I just wanted to speak to you and pa.”

“He’s coming; hey pa, your son is on the phone damnit, come here!” 

Type huffs out a laugh as he hears his dad swear over the phone at his wife’s impatience. He hears a scuffle and then his mom is speaking again. 

“You’re on speakerphone sweetheart. Your dad’s finally here; he’s so slow...like a fat seal. I feed him too much.”

“Hey! There’s only so fast a 45 year old man can walk you know! And who you calling a fat seal; I seem to recall someone liking my nak-”

His mother gives an indignant shriek and then his dad is groaning from a definite smack to the head. Type’s in the middle of wondering if he should end the call and bury his head under a pillow (too much information!) when his dad speaks up again, “Type! You brat! How’s my little man doing? How’s school?” 

“I’m good pa; school’s great too. I just wanted to let you know I’ll probably come home during the holidays. I miss you guys. And I..uhh...” 

Type takes a deep breath;  _ here we go _ .

“I wanted to see the ocean.”

“Alawai? The ocean? Hah honey you see? Your son is crazy! Wants to see the ocean. Son! Check the internet! You can see international oceans!” 

Damn his dad for not seeing through his ~~piss-poor~~ attempt at explaining. 

Shit, Type's going to have to say the words isn't he?

“I found my soulmate.” He mutters and his dad is still teasing him but his mom; damn her Vulcan hearing, she hears her son and she smacks her husband to shush him. 

“Type? What did you say?” 

“I found my soulmate. I can see color.” Type says again and oh god, why are his parents so quiet? 

He opens his mouth to something,  _ anything  _ but his mother’s scream interrupts him. 

“You found your soulmate?! Oh Type! Oh pa! He found them! Type, honey is it a girl? Or a boy? Oh I don’t care! Pa! Say something! Your son found his soulmate!” 

“How? You can’t stand people touching you, son. How’d you find them?” His father’s voice is grave and it immediately sobers up his mother; Type can hear the soft  _ ‘oh’  _ in the background. 

He leans his head against the couch, moving his phone to his other ear, “We never touched. We’re called...true soulmates. I went to have dinner with Ai’Champ and Ai’No and there was a guy sitting at a table near them. I just...we looked at each other and then my head started hurting and I could see color. Ai’Champ took me to a specialist friend of his; he said true soulmates are rare and we’re one of them. Two people who look at each other and they’re connected.” 

“But are you okay though honey? Is it safe; having a soulmate without touch?” 

Oh god; he is definitely not telling his parents about the worst case scenario P’Lon warned him about. Call him stupid but Type is not going to worry his parents about something they cannot control. Not yet, anyway. 

So he lies to his mom, “Yes, it’s fine. We ended up meeting at the hospital; he and I...we had a bit of contact (he is  _ definitely  _ not telling them about the kiss) but then I ended up freaking out and I ran out. No and Champ brought me home.” 

“He? What’s his name Type?” His dad asks and Type freezes. 

Oh fucking fuck. He doesn’t know his soulmate’s  _ name _ . 

_ He doesn’t know his soulmate’s name! _

Oh my god, Type is the actual worst. How does one just not know their soulmate’s name?! 

“Son?” 

“I don’t - I don’t know his name.” 

A beat. Then, “You idiot.” 

“Honey!” Comes his mother’s indignant cry and there's the sound of hands hitting heads again and his dad grunts but he doesn’t let up.

“What? He finds his soulmate and he doesn’t think to ask for his name? How stupid is that? Son! You’re making your dad look bad!” 

Type tries to defend himself, “There was a lot going on okay? I’ll figure it out, don’t worry about it!” 

“I can’t believe it; my son is a nutcase  _ and  _ a brat who talks back. Here; take the phone, I need to break coconuts so I don’t break my son’s head instead.” His dad  _ harrumps _ and then Type hears his mother sigh. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s just excited; we  _ both  _ are. We’re so very happy for you, sweetheart. You deserve this. You deserve love.” 

Type doesn’t think so but he’s not about to tell his mother that. He just  _ hmmms  _ in response and if she senses his bullshit, she doesn’t call him out on it. He loves her a bit more for that and he tells her.

“I love you mae.”

“Love you too sweetheart. Find out his name soon and then tell us okay? I want the name of my son-in-law and I need to know what he likes to eat so that I can feed him when you bring him home. Oh and be safe! Use protection okay? Oh your pa’s calling; we’ve got guests! Bye darling! We love you!” 

And then his mother is hanging up on Type’s sputtering. 

Son in law?  _ Protection _ ?? Fuck that shit; that is  _ not  _ happening. 

Throwing his phone away on the couch, Type runs a weary hand down his face. All things considering, that could have gone way worse. He was lucky this time round that they hadn’t asked him questions which he did not have answers to but Type has a feeling that his next call with his parents will not be so easy.

Heaving himself off the couch, Type makes his way to the bathroom for a shower. His clothes are haphazardly thrown into his yellow laundry basket (why in the world is it yellow?) and then the shower’s running and Type leans against the cold tile as the water beats against his naked skin.

He turns his face up, lets the water sluice over his skin and hair, washing away dirt, the weariness, the touches of the day. He can still feel the phantom glide of hands on his shoulders and moving up into his hair; of lips biting his. Type raises his own hand to touch his lips; that kiss had been so different than the one pressed on him in his childhood.

This one had been just as insistent but it had been soft; gentle nibbles and coaxing bites that had Type opening his own lips in response. The slip of the other man’s tongue in his mouth had been a surprise but not more so than the jolt of arousal that had hit him deep in his gut. 

What had truly surprised Type was how… _ okay _ he was with it. He’d felt good, he’d felt  _ wanted _ and that had made him stay.

But then the man had touched his waist and all that goodness he’d felt had been wiped out. Suddenly the hands in his hair were far too big, the lips on his weren’t playful and he was an eleven year old being raped again.

Type’s eyes burn with his tears and they fall, mixing in with the water from his shower. Heaving another deep breath, he goes through the rest of his shower in an almost robotic fashion and he’s out in a few minutes.

Type putters about the apartment, cleaning up a bit after himself and decides that he’s going to be stupid to his back and sleep on his couch. Lights go off and his TV switched on, Type takes the red throw and pulls it over himself. A few minutes later, sleep threatens to shut his eyes but the buzz of his phone near his hip wakes him up again.

It’s a message from Champ.

_ I figured you should at least know his name. Tharn Kirigun. His LINE details are there too if you want. Techno and I still got your back  _ 😉

Type stares at his phone for a full minute, eyes going over the words.

“Tharn.” His voice is softer than the TV but his soul still hears it because something in Type flutters. His soulmate’s name.

Three seconds of hesitation and then Type clacks at his phone screen a few times before setting it face down on the table and lying back down. Sleep takes over him a few heartbeats later.

On his phone, a new contact has been entered:  _ Tharn Kirigun _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always drop me a review! They are my favorite things to see!! And come make friends with me on Tumblr so that I can freak out about all the BL'S: indiefanficchica  
> <3


	6. vi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: So...I forgot that I made them college kids...which means they have classes...oops 
> 
> also....YOU WAANJAI ARE FREAKING AMAZING!!! Gaaahahh! All the comments and the love this fic is getting...like I actually am in shock about how much people love this story! Thank you you guys; you'll are a blessing i swear. 
> 
> The biggest hugs and gifts go to my wonderful beta: mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110 ….SHE IS A GODDESS! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine….allow me a few minutes to mourn

When Lhong parks the car in the driveway, neither of them move. 

He reaches out to dial down the radio and without the music filling the space, the oppressive silence that had begun in the hospital is back with a fierce vengeance. Tharn swallows, fingers crinkling around the paper bag holding his medication and he turns to look at Lhong. 

The whole way home, his best friend had looked straight ahead, shoulders tight and tense. Even now, he can see Lhong bracing himself as if for a punch and Tharn squashes down the urge to reach out. He doesn’t think his touch will be much appreciated right now. 

So he settles for words, “Lhong? Are we going to be okay?” 

Lhong doesn’t answer right away, his knuckles tightening over the steering wheel; but then he lets out a breath and his hands fall into his lap. 

He still doesn’t look at Tharn, “I don’t know. I want to say yes but I don’t know. I need some time to think, Tharn. To figure out who I am with you.” 

“You’re my best friend-” 

Lhong’s shaking his head even before Tharn finishes his sentence and he lets out a bitter chuckle, “You know I’ve always wanted more. I always wished that we could be more. But now with you actually finding your soulmate, I don’t fit with you the way I wanted and that’s going to take some time getting used to.” 

Tharn opens his mouth to say more but Lhong’s opening his door and getting out. He places Tharn’s keys and wallet on top of the car and shuts the door, “I’ll take a cab home. I’ll see you at practice later.” 

He turns without another word and for a minute, Tharn stands in his driveway and he wonders...wonders about how he should feel. 

In a way, he hates that finding his soulmate has caused him to lose his best friend. Lhong and he have been a package deal ever since high school and Tharn cannot imagine his life without the young man at his side. 

But a larger part of him feels relief; he’s known Lhong’s feelings for him for the longest time but he’d been unable to say what he’d truly thought: that he and Lhong would have never worked out. They were too similar, too hopelessly waiting for someone and Tharn knows that perhaps further down the road, things would have soured between them had they even tried to turn things romantic. 

But he does hope for happiness for the younger man; Lhong’s been so alone in his life that he deserves to have someone love him and care for him wholeheartedly in a way Tharn knows he never would have been able to do so. 

“P’Tharn!” 

His sister’s voice pulls him out of his reverie and Tharn turns with a grin, arms already open to receive the young girl. He huffs out a breath as Thanya collides into him, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell her off for running into him like a battering ram when she smiles up at him with those impish eyes.

Instead he hoists her into his arms, ignoring the returning ache in his head and chest and he grins as he presses a kiss to her cheek, “Hey Princess; did you miss me?”

“You were gone for so long! P’Thorn said you’d only be gone for as long as my piano lesson but you still weren’t back when I came home. That’s not fair.” 

Then her eyes fall on his bruise and Thanya frowns, worry apparent in her large brown eyes, “P’Tharn, you’re hurt! What happened? Did you get in a fight? Going out with P’Lhong was supposed to make you smile; P’Thorn  _ promised  _ you’d come back with a smile.” 

Tharn feels his heart twinge in guilt; he knew his family had been worried about him in the wake of Tar leaving him but he hadn’t really thought of how Thanya would have been affected. The little girl meant the world to him and the thought that he would have worried her makes Tharn feel absolutely terrible. 

Tharn smiles and squeezes her a little tighter in his embrace as he walks inside, “I’m fine Princess, promise. Look! I’m smiling right at you!” He blows a raspberry into her cheek and it makes Thanya shriek in laughter, “Are mae and pa still not home?” 

“Mae said they would be home late but they would still come to kiss me goodnight. Should I call them and tell them to come home early?” 

“No, that’s fine. But will you go call P’Thorn for me? I need to talk to him about something important.” 

Thanya; wonderfully smart little girl that she is, lifts an eyebrow at her older brother, “Is this a ‘Thanya go get water for Phi’ conversation or can I stay and listen? I want to listen Phi!” 

He presses another kiss to her cheek and sets her on the floor, “This is a ‘Thanya, go get water for Phi’ conversation. Sorry Princess.” 

Thanya pouts at that but she does go upstairs to get their older brother. Tharn takes that moment to grab some ice for his jaw and head. 

He’s pressing the ice pack against the bruise when he hears Thorn behind him, “What happened? Thanya said you got punched. Did you piss off someone?” 

Tharn chuckles and turns to face his unimpressed older brother who’s leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, in a way. It was kinda my fault.”

“It almost always is. So, what did you need to talk to me about?” 

“Well, I basically have good news and sorta bad news but the good news is pretty good so maybe we concentrate on that- ”

“You’re stalling little brother.” Thorn cuts in with a raised eyebrow and Tharn huffs. He knows he’s stalling but how else do you drop the news that he’s found his soulmate and that they’re true soulmates which is super rare, but his soulmate could very much not want to have anything to do with him and that that rejection could very potentially kill him  _ because  _ they are true soulmates?

Apparently, you just drop it. 

“I found my soulmate today but we’re part of this super rare type of soulmate called zenith soulmates because neither of us touched each other. We just kinda locked eyes and then I got super dizzy and nauseous and well, I was able to see color which freaked out both Lhong and myself and so Lhong took me to the hospital where we met this doctor who’s also a specialist on soulmates; he’s going to send me more information when he can about this rare soulmate thing.”

“Anyways, my soulmate ended up being at the same hospital because we had the same symptoms and I saw him again properly and I kinda, might have kissed him? He was just there and I couldn’t help myself and I know that was really bad but I did and he punched me and ran off and I don’t know if that means he’s rejecting me but it might not? And now I have to find him and apologize and see if he’ll accept our bond because if not, bad things can happen. Which again- I’m going to find out more about later from that specialist. And you can’t tell ma or pa just yet. I want to find out more before I scare them but yeah; that’s why I’m sporting this bruise. He’s got a solid right hook.” 

Thorn’s blinking at him and Tharn just takes a minute to breathe after that word vomit as he waits for his brother to react. 

“You....you really never can do things by half, can you little brother?” 

That pulls a sheepish laugh from Tharn and Thorn leans forward to flick him in the forehead, “You’re an idiot. But you’re my little brother so maybe some of that blame rests on me.” 

Tharn smirks but then it drops off his face as Thorn looks at him with grim eyes, “You said bad things would happen if your soulmate would refuse to accept the bond. What kind of bad things? Are you having side effects now?” 

“I’m not too sure about how bad but right now I just have slight symptoms. I’ve had a headache since I saw him and chest pains. P’Lon; that’s the doctor, he’s given me some medication to help curb the worst of the pain but it’ll only ever go away once Type accepts me. And that might be difficult.” 

“Because you kissed him without introducing yourself like a weirdo.” Thorn nods thoughtfully and levels Tharn with a deadpan look, “Yeah; I can see how that might put someone off. Did you even say hi?” 

Tharn pouts in the face of his brother’s judgement, “It was in the heat of the moment okay? I could sense him in the other room and I saw him and I just couldn’t help myself. But yes, that’s one reason why he might be a little reluctant to accept me.” 

“What’s the other?” 

Here, Tharn becomes a little quieter as he remembers what Champ had told him in the hospital. 

“His friend told me that Type has gone through some prior trauma; even P’Lon mentioned that me kissing Type might have triggered a PTSD episode. I don’t know what happened to him but it must have been bad. But phi-” 

Tharn runs a hand over his hair, setting the now tepid ice pack onto the counter and he fixes his brother with a determined look, “I need to find him and I need to apologize and I need him to know that I’ll be there for him. Even if he doesn’t want a soulmate, he could use a friend. If that’s what he wants from me then that’s what I’ll give him.” 

Tharn turns away to put the ice pack in the freezer and Thorn watches him quietly. His younger brother has a heart of gold and far too often, Thorn has watched it break and be stomped on. Even now, under the intensity in his voice, Thorn can hear the insecurity and fear that have always followed Tharn. 

He’s always had so much love to give and no one has ever been able to truly receive that love. With Tharn finding a soulmate, that should have solved his problems but like Thorn said before; his little brother never could do things by half. He had to find the one soulmate who is apparently afraid of having a soulmate and on top of that, is a zenith soulmate - whatever the hell that is and ostensibly that comes with complications of its own. 

Still, Thorn is willing to go to the ends of the earth for Tharn and he rounds the corner to squeeze Tharn’s shoulder, “Whatever you need little brother, I’ll be there to help. But right now, you’ve got bigger issues.” 

Tharn looks at him in confusion, “What’s that?” 

Thorn smirks with all the smugness of an older brother screwing over his younger brother, “You get to tell ma, pa and princess about the fact that you have a soulmate.” 

The smack of Tharn’s head onto the counter echoes all through the house. 

_ Ooo _

His parents are ecstatic; though his mom does give him a smack upside the head when she finds out about the kiss - _ I didn’t raise you like a heathen; what are you doing, going around kissing people!  _ \- His dad’s look of disapproval becomes nugatory when he gives Tharn a grin after his wife turns away grumbling and Thanya begs him for details about Type and about the colors around the house. 

Later that night, after he swallows down his prescribed dose and he no longer feels like smashing his head against a wall (his mom smacking his head and him smacking his head against the counter had been  _ extremely  _ counter productive), Tharn lays in bed thinking about how to best go about speaking to his soulmate. 

First thing Tharn actually has to do is apologize but he doesn’t have Type’s number which means Champ is his only point of contact. Hoping that he’s not going to disturb the man (he wants to be Champ’s good side after making such a bad first impression), Tharn finds the newest contact and dials. The phone rings a few times and then someone picks up. 

“Hello?” 

Champ’s voice is hushed and Tharn curses under his breath that he’s most likely woken the guy up, “Hello? Ai’Champ? This is Tharn...we met today? I’m sorry if I disturbed you; should I call back tomorrow?” 

“Oh! Ai’Tharn! Yeah, I remember. Kinda hard to forget, you know? Hold on, No’s asleep. Give me a second.” 

Tharn hears some shuffling in the background and then Champ’s voice comes back a little louder, “Hey, what’s up?” 

“Well, I need to apologize to Type and I was hoping you could help me set up a meeting with him?” 

“Oh? Just to talk? No kissing?” Champ teases and Tharn huffs out a laugh; god, that’s gonna haunt him forever isn’t it? 

“No kissing, promise. At least, not without a warning. But I do want to meet him. If he feels uncomfortable in a private setting or even just meeting me alone, you guys could come too.” 

“Do you have a place in mind? Type doesn’t like crowded areas.” 

“Um...well, I was going to suggest this bar I play at. They’re not busy during the day, so maybe we could meet there? I know the owners so I could always ask to see if they’d be willing to accommodate for me.” 

“Sure, if that’s no problem. Text me the details and I’ll speak to Type.” 

Tharn grins, “Thanks Ai’Champ. I’ll text you once I confirm things. Goodnight.” 

_ Ooo _

It takes Tharn three days to get things organized only because Type is reluctant to meet him. 

Champ tells him so when he texts Tharn, but says that he and Techno will work on getting Type to agree; something Tharn really appreciates because he doesn’t blame Type for his reluctance. 

While he really wants to meet his soulmate as soon as possible, Tharn also doesn’t want to force the man. He wants Type to feel like he’s in control of the situation, so he waits and goes to his classes and rehearsals (and if Lhong keeping his distance hurts a little, Tharn says nothing), taking his pills and breathing through now familiar pain in his head and chest. The pills keep the worst of it at bay; without them, Tharn feels like he can barely function in the morning when he wakes. 

But then Champ finally texts him and says that Type has agreed to meet him. 

After that, it’s a simple matter of speaking to P’Jeed and shamelessly exploiting the fact that Tharn’s her favorite. All he has to tell her is that he’s meeting his soulmate and he needs a quiet place to do so and she’s agreeing almost immediately. 

So, on a humid Wednesday when he’s got no classes, Tharn makes his way to P’Jeed’s bar. He’s dressed simply; black jeans, green top and a denim jacket and his ever trusty thumb ring in place. He goes in through the back door, calling out a hello to P’Khong up in his office and making his way to the front of the bar. P’Jeed has given him permission to unlock it once he’s in, since he’s able to keep an eye on the place. 

Once he’s done that, Tharn sits himself in a booth and waits, eyes flicking between the door and his phone. He knows Champ has promised that Type will be there but one part of Tharn worries that Type might cancel on him. But he pushes that thought away and tries to keep himself positive; Type will come. 

5 minutes past their scheduled time, Tharn starts to feel his foot jiggle in anticipation. 

10 minutes past and he’s debating whether he should text Champ or not. 

20 minutes and Tharn has sent 5 messages and two voicemails. 

30 minutes and P’Jeed finds him banging away on the drumset that takes up the stage. 

“N’Tharn, what are you doing? I thought you said your soulmate was coming here?” 

Tharn gives her a deep  _ wai  _ in apology, trying not to let his disappointment show, “He hasn’t shown up yet. I’m sorry, P’Jeed; I made you open up early for me for no reason.” 

The woman waves away the apology and pats Tharn’s shoulder, “It’s alright! I’m more sorry that you weren’t able to meet. If you want, you can stay here and play for a bit; we won’t be opening for another couple of hours.” 

Tharn nods and thanks her for letting him stay. Once she leaves, he shoves his headphones back in his ear, ignores the fact that it’s now 45 minutes past when he was supposed to see Type and lets the music take over. 

He drums hard, sticks flying over the taut skin of his instrument, feeling each beat and thud reverberate through his body and skull. It doesn’t do much to dull the pain in his chest but Tharn continues to bang away, feeling sweat drip down the back of his hair. 

He opens his eyes once the song ends (when had he closed them?) and then nearly falls out of his seat. As it is, the sticks fall from his numb fingers and his chair tips dangerously to the side as he rises.

Because Type is  _ here _ . Standing a mere few feet in front of him. 

Type with his dark soft hair, falling over his forehead. Type with his brown eyes, looking at him with slight awe. Type with his uncertain smile that he sends towards Tharn with a slight dip of his head. Beautiful Type. His  _ soulmate  _ Type. The roar in his head has dulled and his heart is thudding in his chest and Tharn wants nothing more than to have this man,  _ his  _ man, in his arms right now. 

He takes one step forward, as if in a trance. And then Type takes a step backward, his eyes widening slightly and it’s like ice cold water over Tharn’s head.  _ Shit _ , this is exactly what he’s  _ not  _ supposed to do. Tharn freezes in place and then blurts out.

"I’m sorry!” 

Type is still looking at him warily but this time when Tharn takes another step forward, he doesn’t move. 

Tharn doesn’t move any further, “Not just about the..weird thing I did right now. But also sorry for before. For um...kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that without asking your permission. Or even saying hi. So uhh...sorry. But thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I appreciate that. And hi. I’m Tharn.” 

Type looks at him and his ears are red (fuck that’s cute) but he’s looking at Tharn up and down and then he speaks, “God, you look like shit.” 

“Dude! You can’t just say shit like that! Granted he does look bad but you didn’t look any better; fuck you nearly threw up yesterday. Sorry about him; he’s got no filter. And oh! Sorry about shoving you in the hospital but you gotta admit, it’s hella weird just going up to someone and kissing them. Like  _ hello _ ; say hi!” 

Tharn glances from Type, who is full on flushing red and glaring at Techno; to Techno who looks like he’s vibrating and then to Champ, who’s looking up at the ceiling as if he can’t believe he’s got an idiot for a soulmate and an idiot for a friend (but he does and they’re his and fuck he loves them both but  _ Buddha send help _ ). 

But then what Techno says registers in his mind and he whips back to look at Type, “You threw up? Are you okay? Should you be sitting down?” 

Champ delivers a small smack to the back of Techno’s head, ignoring the yelp, “Now look what you did; you got him freaked out. Type’s fine; he missed his dose yesterday night but all’s good. Also, sorry we’re so late; I took the wrong exit coming here and then my phone ran out of charge and none of the guys had chargers.” 

“I have my charger; you can use it.” 

“Thanks.” Champ glances around and then grabs Techno’s arms, “Let’s give them a little privacy shall we? Play nice you two. No kissing and no punching  _ please _ .” 

The reminder makes both Tharn and Type wince but Champ is gone off to a corner and then the two of them are left alone. 

None of them make a sound as they make their way to a table and sit and even after that, neither of them talk. Because the truth is, Tharn does not know what to say. 

He’s apologized but what to do after that is a mystery to him. Normally, he’d turn on the flirt and go for it but Type is new uncharted territory for him and he does not want to make the wrong move. 

And then Techno’s voice carries over to them, “We did not come all this way just for you two idiots to stare at each other! Fucking speak damnit!” 

Type whips around to scowl at him and Tharn is not going to comment on how much that glare makes his heart race. The bar has a few lights on but the main reason it’s bright is due to the setting sun of Bangkok. It lights Type in a way that makes him ethereal and feel untouchable and Tharn is fucking  _ lost _ . 

Then Type speaks, “Fucking No is right. I didn’t come here just to sit here with my mouth shut. Ai’Tharn, I’ll be honest with you. I don’t want a soulmate. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted but you need to understand that I… I am not ready yet. And this whole zenith soulmates thing; honestly, if the pills make it easier to live then I’m fine with that. I just can’t do the whole soulmate thing... I’m sorry.” 

There’s the squeak of the chair as it rubs against the floor as Type stands up but Tharn can’t hear it over the roaring in his ears that Type does not want a soulmate and  _ oh god he’s leaving, no he can’t leave, please don’t leave, stay, how can I make you stay- _

“What if we were friends?” Tharn blurts out and he’s going to ignore the desperation in his voice but he needs Type to listen, needs him to  _ stay _ .

“What?” 

“Friends. You don’t want a soulmate, that’s fine. But everyone can always use a friend.” 

“I have two friends.” 

“No one ever said there was a limit. Just friends Ai’Type. Please.” 

And then Type is finally turning around and he’s looking at Tharn with something that he can’t describe and Tharn isn’t breathing, he’s waiting and waiting…

“Just friends? Nothing more?” 

“Nothing more. We take the pills, we live our lives. Forget what P’Lon said.” 

_ Please please please agree.  _

2 seconds. 6 seconds. 10 seconds. 

Then Type nods and it’s all Tharn can do not to collapse right then and there. Instead he nods right back and then in a move that he has no idea where it comes from because he does remember Champ’s warning that Type does not like being touched, he reaches his hand out. 

Type looks startled for a moment and then he’s wary, glancing from the hand and then to Tharn. And then, ever so slowly, he reaches out his hand and his fingers are clasped in Tharn’s and the bond  _ thrums  _ between them. 

Soulmate. Loved. Safe.  _ Mine _ . 

“Just friends. No more.” Type reminds him. 

“Just friends.” Tharn promises. 

_ Ooo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....we all know these boys can’t keep promises for shit! ‘I’m only sleeping with you once’ my ass….
> 
> As always, send me a review (because they absolutely make my day!) and come freak out with me on tumblr: indiefanficchica


	7. vii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: This one is L O N G….I couldn’t stop writing! Here, we get to take an in-depth look at Tharn’s relationship past and his thoughts on why soulmates are so important to him. So enjoy that. 
> 
> As always, please drop me a review; they make my day! 
> 
> And the biggest thank you to my darling beta: mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110 
> 
> Disclaimer: Not mine...excuse my ugly sobbing

_ Friends. I can do friends. Yeah, this I can work with;  _ Type thinks as he inputs his Line details into Tharn’s phone. 

And yet, that had not been the plan. His plan had been clear from the moment he’d finally given in to Champ and No’s nagging: screw the universe and the crippling pain in his head - he was going to reject the bond and that was it. 

Finding his soulmate did not mean that his aversion to touch had magically disappeared. If anything, Type’s flashback in the hospital had further reinforced the bitter truth that he would still never be able to have another’s hands on him in any way. 

Having Techno or Champ touch him was okay; there was nothing sexual in their touches. But he saw the way they were with each other and having his own romantic soulmate meant that Tharn would most likely want to have the same with Type and that- that he could not do. 

So, he’d made up his mind. He was going to tell Tharn that he did not need nor want a soulmate (no matter how bitter the lie felt on his tongue); he was going to take a lifetime prescription of those green pills and his parents...well, he’d figure out how to break their heart later. 

_ That  _ had been the plan. 

And then he was standing in front of Tharn, breathing the same air as him and it had been harder to remember the plan. And it became harder still to stick to it when Tharn asked him to be friends.

Type couldn’t tell which hurt more; the pain in his head from him attempting to reject the bond or the pain in his heart at the desperation and pleas in Tharn’s voice. He’d made a half-hearted protest (I already have two friends; who the hell says that?) which was all for naught because he was agreeing and then Tharn was holding out a hand. 

He doesn’t want to but for some reason, Type reaches out anyway and his mind is still reeling from how calming and  _ right  _ it had been to slide his fingers against Tharn’s. How, for the first time in a week, he’d felt like he could breathe; like he’d been moving around under this haze and was finally seeing things clearly. 

His heart thudded heavy in his chest and even when Tharn had let go of his hand, Type could feel his skin tingle where the man had touched him. 

He hands the phone back to Tharn, careful not to let fingers touch and then they make their way towards Champ and No. Both their heads are bent over No’s phone but he catches them out of the corner of his eye and he nudges Champ. 

“So? All’s a-okay?” 

Tharn looks at Type, letting him control their narrative. Which is...nice. He appreciates the gesture. 

Type runs a hand through his hair and says, “We’re going to be friends.” 

Champ’s eyebrows disappear under his bangs and No’s eyes widen comically, “Friends?? But you’re his sou-mph”

No glares at the offending hand covering his mouth but Champ pays him no mind, “Okay. Friends is good. Important thing I want to know is; do we get discounts on food when you play here?” 

No pulls the hand away from his mouth to scold Champ for always thinking about food while Type turns to Tharn, “You play here? I thought you were just messing around.” 

“Yeah, I play in a band with a few friends from my program. You remember the guy who was with me in the hospital that day? He’s the singer and we play here occasionally. We might be playing here next week if you’d like to come?” 

Before Type can answer, Champ is already agreeing. But Tharn keeps his eyes on Type, waiting on his answer and Type is most definitely not going to think about how that makes his chest warm and tingly. 

He’d actually like to come and watch; he doesn’t care about what music he listens to but watching Tharn play before had been mesmerizing. The beat, the intensity of the music and the man himself; Type had been unable to take his eyes off him. 

Tharn shifts in front of him and Type realizes with a start that he’s been silent for too long. He hastens to speak, “I’m not so good in crowds.” 

Tharn nods, his face falling a little and shit, that hurts too much to be okay. 

“It’s okay; I can understand. No worries.”

Oh fuck hell.

“I’ll try and come.” 

Lord help him but no adult man should be allowed to look that cute. Tharn somehow pulls it off and his stupid grin is infectious and it makes Type huff the smallest smile too. 

They leave soon after; before the bar can actually open. Tharn says that he’ll text them details of when he’ll be playing and then he turns to Type. He opens his mouth to speak, seems to think better of it and then pulls out his phone. 

Type’s about to ask him what’s doing when he hears the shutter click of a camera.

“Did you just take a picture of me?” 

“Yes; cause you’re cute and I want one to remember you by.” 

Tharn laughs in the face of Type’s spluttering, “I am not cute! What the fuck Tharn; delete it!” 

“Nope! Friends are allowed to have cute pictures of their friends on their phone! I’ll send a few of mine to you so that way you have some. See you around friend!” 

And then he’s gone, deaf to Type’s indignant yells of, “I don’t want your stupid pictures Ai’shit Tharn!” 

That night, as he gets ready for bed, Type’s phone pings with a new message. 

**From: Tharn Kirigun**

_ hey new frnd! here’s 5 pics...you can choose which one u like _

There are images attached and  _ christ _ , why does this man seem to have photoshoot esque pictures? Each image is almost like it’s from a magazine shoot and Type scoffs at the absurdity...even though he’s kinda amazed at how good the bastard looks.

**From: Type T**

_ idiot why would i need 5 pics? jsut snd 1 like a nrml person _

_ and i said i didnt want any!  _

**From: Tharn Kirigun**

_ too late; now u hve a pic of me and i have one of u _

Type just scoffs and rolls his eyes at his phone. But  _ if _ he scrolls through the five pictures and finally selects one where Tharn has an open, infectious grin and  _ if  _ he saves that as the bastard’s contact pic….well that’s his business and no one else’s. 

**From: Type T**

_ whtever...i’m going to bed...i hve class tmrw _

He’s about to set the phone down when it lights up with a new message from Tharn.

**From: Tharn Kirigun**

_ umm...would we able to meet tmrw? There’s this southern restaurant on campus with really gud food. 12:30? Champ told me you like southern food _

He knows the place; has been there once before and had especially loved their yellow curry. But Type’s breath stutters in his chest...is this a date? Is Tharn asking him on date? What is he- 

His fingers are weirdly clammy as he attempts to type out a 'no' but Tharn beats him to it. 

**From: Tharn Kirigun**

_ friends meet for lunch  _

Goddamn this man. Running a weary hand down his face, Type thinks for a few seconds before erasing his last text. 

**From: Type T**

_ fine. 1pm. my class ends then _

**From: Tharn Kirigun**

_ :D yay _

**From: Type T**

shut up and go to sleep

**From: Tharn Kirigun**

_ yes sir! c u tmrw friend! _

Type is not smiling - he is  _ not! _ Thankfully, in the darkness of his apartment, it’s much easier to lie to himself. 

_ Ooo _

The next day, Type’s mind is running a hundred miles a minute. He’s definitely not paying attention to the lecture and he knows he’s going to have to ask Champ for his notes but right now, his mind is on much more pressing matters. 

He’s having lunch with Tharn today and he can’t tell if the sweat on his palms is because he’s excited or nervous. The man had sent him a single message during Type’s first class to confirm the time they’d be meeting but that was it and Type’s not sure if he’s sad or relieved that he hasn’t heard more. 

When class ends, Type tells Champ and No that he won’t be joining them for lunch. When they press him for details, Type turns red (damn his propensity for blushing) and that seems to be enough for his friends because Champ grins at him with approval and No is busy brushing away an imaginary tear from his eye. 

Type gives him a particularly hard smack across the head for that and turns on his heel, ignoring No’s yelp of pain and his subsequent whining to his boyfriend. 

In ten minutes, he reaches the familiar restaurant and enters to see Tharn situated in a corner near the open space. It’s obvious that the seat chosen very much caters to Type’s preference of not being around people and that little gesture makes Type’s breath hitch. 

Swerving neatly around a group of rowdy first years, Type swallows around his dry throat and walks towards Tharn. The other man lifts his head from his notebook and when he catches sight of Type, his face splits into his familiar open grin. 

“Hey, you made it!” 

“Well, I said I would.” 

“True. But I thought I might be here for 45 minutes just waiting for you.” Tharn teases as he moves his stuff off the table. Type catches sight of what looks like music notes before Tharn’s words register and he levels a glare at him. 

“That was not my fault. Fucking No had the GPS and he screwed up.” 

Tharn just lets out another laugh and Type lets the warm sound wash over him. Tharn laughs openly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Like the ugliness of the world hasn’t touched him and it makes Type’s heart ache. 

He has seen the ugly in the world; has watched the ghastliness of it as it ripped away his innocence and joy. How could Tharn ever look at him and see him as someone worthy enough to be loved? Type looks at himself and all that ever stares back at him is a broken shell of a boy. 

“Ai’Type?” 

Tharn’s voice shakes him out of his thoughts and he sees the man reaching out hesitant fingers towards Type. 

Type’s flinch is subtle but Tharn catches it and a contrite look crosses his features. “I’m sorry. I was calling you but you seemed out of it. Are you okay?” 

Type clears his throat and nods, “Yeah. I’m fine. I just need to take another dose. Can we order?”

Tharn looks at him like he doesn’t quite believe him and Type feels his hackles rise. But Tharn doesn’t push it and instead, calls over a server and they order. 

When the woman walks away, Tharn steers them into safer topics. He asks Type about himself and while Type hates small talk, he finds it easy enough to answer Tharn’s questions. 

He tells Tharn the bare minimum: he’s a Sports Science major, he’s an only child, his parents live in Pha-ngan and that they own a resort, that he loves playing football. 

In turn, Type learns that Tharn is a Music major, that he’s the middle child and that he stays at home but is looking to move to a dorm on campus for next term. 

“I don’t live too far but with our rehearsals going on so late at night, it just gets a bit annoying having to drive home so late and then being back here the next morning for class.” 

Their food comes then and Type can’t help it. He laughs at Tharn’s look of horror at the plethora of chilies that cover his plate. 

“You’re gonna eat all that?” The man sounds aghast and Type grins as he spoons a chili and pops it into his mouth. 

“I’m from the south; spicy food is in my blood. My mom makes some of the best _khua kling_ but this place is pretty good too. Wanna try?”

Type’s never seen anyone recoil away from a chili so fast in his life and it makes him snort, “Jeez relax. I’m not going to force it down your throat.” 

“Sorry, I’ve just never liked spicy food.” 

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it. My mom said she wanted to know what your favorite foods were; I can’t tell her that her son-in-law hats spicy food; that would break her hea-” 

There’s a clatter as Tharn drops his spoon onto his plate, eyes are wide as he attempts to speak, “Son-in-law?” 

Shit. Oh shit. Not good, not good, not good! 

Type drops his own spoon and pushes himself away from the table and hurries to grab his things. He needs to get out of here. 

“I uhh….she said it like that. I’m not... look I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to say that. I’m going to go, I’ll pay for my share but  _ shit-  _ this was not a good idea.” 

“Hey stop, it’s okay.” Tharn’s looking at him with this indescribable look but his voice is without judgement. 

“My mom might have said something similar when I told her about you too. It doesn’t have to mean anything; they’re moms. It’s what they do. Don’t worry about it okay? Please. Let’s finish lunch.”

Type doesn’t really want to do that but his food is good and he does have to take his pills and he can’t do that without eating and Tharn is looking at him with those damn pleading eyes...Type sighs and drops back in his seat. 

Tharn, ever the observant one, brings up another safe topic and it takes Type a few minutes to really get back into the conversation. But Tharn’s patient enough and by the time they’re done eating and getting ready to leave, Type has found himself laughing as Tharn recounts a time he and his little sister had painted a French mustache on their older brother right before he’d left to go on a date. 

The rest of the week goes in the same manner. They don’t meet for lunch again since both their schedules are hectic and with them having vastly different majors, the chances of them running into each other are slim to none. 

Tharn is the one that starts most of their texting conversations and while Type gripes and groans that he’s at practice or attempting to do homework, he still ends up responding to the texts. Sometimes he and Tharn text for hours on end and he doesn’t even feel the passage of time. 

Everytime his phone buzzes now, Type feels his heart drop heavy in his chest and he ignores No’s knowing look. 

It’s a new feeling; that warmth that fills him every time Tharn’s name lights up his screen. Some days the warmth hurts because it mixes with the bitterness of Type’s own failures. On those days, he leaves Tharn’s messages unread for a few hours until he can finally pull himself out of the slump to respond. 

Tharn never pushes him on those days; something Type is absurdly grateful for. And in that way, the days pass. 

Nearly a week after his first meeting with his soulmate, Type wakes up to find one lone green pill staring back up at him. Shit, he needs to refill his prescription. 

He’s just swallowed the last pill when his phone rings with an incoming call and Tharn’s face flashes on his screen. 

Type slides his thumb across the panel and keeps the phone on speaker, “Hello.”

“Hi Type. Listen, did you need to refill your prescription for those meds P’Lon gave us?” 

Type nearly chokes on his water, “What the- fuck do you cameras in my apartment? How the fuck did you know that?” 

“Wha- Type! I’ve never even seen the inside of your apartment. No, I’m down to my last two pills and I figured if we’ve both been taking them according to the dosage recommended, you’d need to refill yours too.” 

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense.” Well, doesn’t Type feel like the brightest bulb in the room.

“Did you want to go together? I could pick you up in like 2 hours; I had to go to the mall to pick up new sheets and there’s a pharmacy there.” 

That’s not the worst idea in the world; Type knows he’s running low on groceries and other stuff for the apartment. Having Tharn drive him would mean he doesn’t have to awkwardly balance his stuff while he takes the bus home. 

“Alright two hours. I’ll send you my location.” And then he’s shutting off the call before Tharn can say anything stupid. 

True to his word, Tharn is picking him up two hours later in a sleek BMW and they pass causal banter on the way to the shopping centre. It’s the weekend but they’re early enough that the mall isn’t terribly crowded so Type feels the tension ease out of his shoulders. 

They go to the pharmacy first and if the pharmacist gives them a look as they refill their prescription, neither boy says a word. Well, Type levels a heavy glare at the woman and it hastens her steps and he ignores Tharn’s little smirk. 

“Nice. You scared her.” 

“She was judging us. You know she was.” 

“People judge because they have nothing better to do. Doesn’t mean we have to let that judgement color our lives. Hehe...color...see what I did there?” 

“Yeah...I see that you’re a fucking dork.” 

The ease in which he can ignore Tharn’s squawk of protest doesn’t surprise Type. The small smile that crosses his face, does. 

Well, he’s going to ignore whatever  _ that  _ means. 

They go towards the mattress store next for Tharn and it’s stupidly domestic as they move around the store, choosing sheets. They stand close enough that people don’t try to push in between them but not so close that they touch. Sometimes Tharn’s shoulder’s accidentally brushes Type but he’s quick to apologize and move away; the gesture both eases and increases the pain in Type’s chest in a shitty cycle. 

He pushes aside the pain to protest the sheets Tharn’s holding. Having had a monochromatic life Tharn wants to experiment with colors, opting for garish neon shades. Type tries to steer him towards colors that don’t make him want to puke but it makes him pull short - why does he care about the color of Tharn’s sheets? It’s not like he’s going to be sleeping in that bed...ever. 

But Tharn doesn’t call him out on it and they bicker between themselves - like friends, Type realizes and he thinks that yeah...maybe he can do this. 

Tharn finally compromises for blue sheets with pink ducks on them (“it’s cute!” - “what is it with you and cute things, seriously”) and they’re looking at some pillows when a voice pipes up behind them.

“P’Tharn? Is that you?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Type sees Tharn freeze and there’s a look of sadness that crosses his face (Type does not like that; does not like the twinge in his heart) and they turn to see a boy who looks like he’d be in high school smiling at Tharn. 

“It is! Oh, it’s so good to see you again! I’ve missed you!” And then he’s hugging Tharn.

He’s  _ hugging  _ Tharn. 

The jolt of white hot jealousy is so sharp that Type has to bite his lip to keep from growling out. It’s harder still to keep his hands firm at his side; to not reach out and yank this boy away from his soulmate -  _ mine. _

But then Tharn is pulling away and he’s shuffling just the slightest bit closer to Type and the resentment in Type is immediately washed out by possessive joy - Tharn is  _ his _ .

Tharn’s voice breaks through his jealous haze, “N’Tar. It’s good to see you; you look well. Ah, Type let me introduce you. This is Tar, he’s Ai’Tum’s brother; who plays in the band. And Tar; this is Type. He’s my...frie-” 

“I’m his soulmate.” Type butts in and he takes immense pleasure seeing Tharn choke on air and Tar’s jaw drop.  _ Yeah...back the fuck up buddy boy. _

But that doesn’t seem to deter Tar because he’s rounding on Tharn again, “Soulmate? Oh, P’Tharn that’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you!” And he’s hugging Tharn  _ again _ and fuck, Type’s about to pop a blood vessel. 

It must actually show on his face because Tharn’s looking at him, mouth open to speak but Type doesn’t give him a chance. 

“Excuse me, I need some air.” 

And Type is striding out the doors without a backwards glance. 

Once he’s out of the store, he makes a beeline for the benches that litter the mall and drops into the seat with a huff. 

What in the actual fuck was with that boy, casually touching Tharn as if he’s not already claimed? Tharn is  _ Type’s  _ \- he’s  _ Type’s soulmate _ \-  _ mine  _ \- how dare he touch -

Wait. 

What is happening?

How did he go from  _ 'I don’t want a soulmate’ _ and  _ ‘let’s be friends’ _ to  _ ‘Tharn is mine’ _ ? When did that happen? When had he started thinking of Tharn as  _ his _ ? More importantly,  _ how  _ could he think Tharn is his? Type knows they would never work; knows that he is broken and ruined and fuck,  _ what is happening?  _

His chest hurts and his vision is blurring at the edges and  _ oh god, no, he cannot have a panic attack here in the mall _ and breathing is difficult and  _ shit, he’s going to pass out. _

“Type!” 

And then there’s hands around his shoulders, cupping his face and Tharn’s face swims in his blurry vision. Type wants to pull away but he’s barely got the strength to keep his head up. Tharn’s lips are moving - he’s speaking to him and Type is trying to hear him over the roar in his ears. 

“Type, look at me! Come on, breath with me okay? You’re going to be okay. Deep breath in. And out. In. Out. Breathe deep. I’m right here. Just breathe for me, please, okay? In. Out.” 

And Type breathes. 

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

Tharn breathes with him, eyes never leaving Type’s, his fingers gentle as they hold his cheeks. He doesn’t stroke the skin; just leaves it there for the contact. 

And slowly, Type comes back to himself. His vision clears, his chest has gone back to aching just a little and he slowly pulls back. 

“You’re touching me.” 

Tharn’s hands drop as if he’s been burned and he steps back, “I’m sorry. You weren’t responding and you looked like you were going to pass out and I didn’t know what to do. I know you don’t like being touched and -”

“It’s okay. It helped.” Type counters softly and he looks down at his sneakers to avoid looking at Tharn’s face. His own face is red and Type doesn’t know how to feel about the fact that he actually welcomed Tharn’s touch. 

“Oh. Well, that’s...that’s good.” Tharn moves to sit next to him, their knees close together, “You feel up to getting up?” 

“Not yet. Can we just sit here?” 

“Okay.” A beat of silence. 

“We should talk about Tar.” 

Type’s head does not snap up - it does not. 

“What? Why?” 

“Because you huffed out of the store looking like a puffed up windbag without giving me the chance to explain.” 

“I did not look like-” 

“You did. Now, hush. I’m story-telling.” 

Type should be way more pissed off at being told to hush but he merely scowls at Tharn and inclines his head to show that  _ yes, stupid Tharn I’m listening _ . 

“Tar was my old boyfriend. We’d actually broken up two weeks before I met you.” 

“Why?” 

“He’d found his soulmate. Which is a very common occurrence for all my exes actually.” 

Type arcs an eyebrow in confusion but says nothing. He waits for Tharn to continue.

“For the longest time, I thought I was broken. Flawed. Every person I’d ever loved seemed to find me and then find the person they were actually meant to be with. And each time, I would let them go with a smile on my face. There’s not much else to do anyway. You can’t fight it, you can’t beg someone to leave their soulmate and stay with you instead. So, I’d let them go and watch as they’d run to their  _ true  _ love. And everytime, it was like a slap to the face. A reminder. That I would never be good enough to be anyone’s true love. It made me doubt my worth in the world.” 

“When I met Tar, he was young and he loved me and he asked me out first. I said no because I didn’t want to go through the same heartache again but he pursued me anyway. Said that soulmates didn’t matter to him because he was allowed to make his own decisions. He wouldn’t let fate decide who he was meant to love. So I went with it. And we were happy. I knew people disagreed with it; his brother for starters, but neither Tar nor I cared. He loved me and I loved him and we didn’t need color to live our lives.” 

Tharn runs a hand through his hair and lets his head drop against the wall behind, “We were happy and together for nearly two years before Tar met his soulmate. And in a span of a second, he forgot all about his promises to me. I was left alone again. And reminded, yet again, that I was worth nothing. That no one would love me.” 

“And then I met you.” Tharn finally turns to face him and Type has no idea what emotion he has on his face because Tharn’s own face softens and he gives a small smile. 

“Don’t you dare feel bad about wanting to be friends. Because meeting you makes me realize and understand love comes in all forms, Type and if our bond means that we stay as friends for years, then that’s what it stays as.” 

“But...what about -” Type starts off but Tharn shakes his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Strange as it is, given that we’ve only known each other for a week, I’m willing to be whatever you need Type. Your friend, your lover, a companion. In every way, I’ll still love you and be there for you. If you don’t feel the same, it’s okay. Because, after meeting you I know that I am capable of being loved. It might not be in the way I’ve always imagined it but it’s still love. That’s what matters.” 

Type looks at him, throat working to say something,  _ anything  _ \- and his phone rings. 

The buzz of it in his pocket yanks him out of his stupor and he pulls it out, ready to curse whoever’s interrupted his moment. 

The name on his screen makes his heart drop. 

“It’s P’Lon.” He tells Tharn and watches as the man stiffens at his side. 

Type puts the phone to his ear, “Sawadee krup P’Lon.” 

“Ah sawadee krup, N’Type. I spoke to Champ; he said you and N’Tharn were together. Would you both be able to come by the hospital?” 

“What, now?” 

“Yes. I’ve spoken to a colleague of mine who’d like to speak to you regarding your bond. She has some questions for you.” 

_ Ooo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: So this….absolutely not how or where I thought this chapter was gonna go. I had a very clear idea of what I wanted and I sat down to write it and BAM - this hit me in the face.   
> But how was that??? Liked it? Are you pissed now?? heheheheh
> 
> As always, please drop a review!


	8. viii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N.: Here, we get an in-depth look at soulbonds and ummm….stuff.  
> Oops? 
> 
> As always, thank you to my beautiful beta who makes my words seem less stupid. Honestly, she brings light to this fic and I’m so stupidly grateful to her for agreeing to beta read this. Love you mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110!
> 
> DIsclaimer: Not mine...sadness

“Khun Lon will see you in a few minutes. Please have a seat.”

Tharn gives the nurse a nod and smiles, sliding the door shut behind her. 

He turns around to lean against the wall, watching as Type hops on the bed in the examination room. The paper rustles under him as he settles against the opposite wall. 

"Are you okay?” Tharn asks and watches as Type flicks his eyes to him and then back down to his red sneakers. 

“I’m fine. Just nervous about what P’Lon has to tell us.” 

Tharn knows that’s the truth; even he’s a bit nervous because he remembers the senior’s warnings about what happens if a bond is outright rejected. He hopes that maybe he and Type are in the clear; after all, Type is still speaking to him and they are friends, even if there is not much touch involved. 

But Tharn also knows that’s not the only reason Type’s nervous. The younger man has been avoiding his eyes ever since they left the mall and Tharn hates how anxious that makes him. 

He’d known it was a risk to bring up his past but something about watching Type run out of the store and watching him delve into a panic attack had Tharn feeling....vulnerable. 

Because he’d seen the jealousy in Type, the anger and the hurt and it reminded Tharn of himself and how he’d felt every time one of his exes would fall into their soulmates arms. The panic attack had scared him but if the one week of conversations had taught Tharn anything about Type, it was that he was reluctant to commit himself to Tharn by anything more than friendship. 

His feelings of envy would have obviously alarmed Type and rather than have him turn skittish and run away, Tharn had opened up to him about his own past. There’s a small part of him that regrets doing so but there’s another that hopes Type might be able to see that Tharn’s hurting too. 

There’s a knock on the door then and Tharn steps away as it slides open to reveal P’Lon holding a laptop. 

Tharn and Type both give him  _ wai  _ in greeting, which the man returns and he settles in the chair opposite Type. 

“Thank you both for coming. I would like to introduce you to a colleague of mine in Australia, Dr. Sanders. She is one of the leading figures on rare soulmate bonds. I spoke to her regarding your bond and well...she should speak.” 

The laptop is set down and turned around to reveal a woman in her 40’s with dark hair pulled back into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck and a champagne sweater that does wonders for her complexion. There are laugh lines over her eyes and forehead and they crinkle as she smiles. 

P’Sanders gives them a nod as they both  _ wai  _ to her and she speaks in accented Thai, “Sawadee kha N’Type and N’Tharn. Thank you for speaking with me today. P’Lon told me about your bond and I am grateful for the opportunity to take an in-depth look at your situation. As I understand it, you are zenith soulmates and were able to see color without touching each other yes?”

There’s murmurs of assent and the woman jots something down on a notebook, “Alright, I have a couple of questions for you both. N’Type you first. On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the highest, rate your level of pain when N’Tharn is not in your immediate proximity.” 

Tharn takes that moment to hop on the bed next to Type, still careful to keep his distance. 

Type thinks for a moment, “In the mornings it’s close to a 10 but after I take the pills, it can go down to a 5. When I’m near Tharn, it’s almost nonexistent.” 

“You’ve been taking the pills often?” 

“Yes, three times every day. One after every meal. Sometimes, I might take two after I eat if the pain’s really bad.” 

“I see. And what’s the most sexual you’ve been with each other?” 

Type chokes on air and his face flushes, “I’m sorry?” 

“Ah, apologies for my bluntness but I do need to know. How much physical contact have you had?” 

Still flushing and steadfastly refusing to look Tharn in the eyes, Type mutters out, “He kissed me the first day we met and after that, not much. I don’t...I don’t like being touched.” 

P’Sanders blinks and then speaks haltingly, “Pardon me...you haven’t touched more than just that first kiss?”

“Yes. I don’t like being touched. It’s personal.” Type defends and Tharn would love nothing more than to reach out and ease Type’s fingers from where it digs into his thigh. 

He doesn’t but rather, opts for words to pull the focus off of Type.

“P’Sanders, my pain levels haven’t been too bad.” 

It works because the doctor turns curious eyes onto him and Tharn feels Type relax just a bit. 

“Oh? Please explain.” 

“Well, in the mornings it’s close to an 8. I take my pills regularly but even if I don’t see Type, the pain is manageable. I can go without a dose during the course of a day.”

“Interesting. Please do excuse me if this crosses a line but it would very much help clarify some things. N’Tharn, in general, would you say you are more accepting of this bond than N’Type?” 

Again Type stiffens and Tharn sees him flush in shame. Immediately he jumps to defend the boy by his side, “That’s not fair; Type was pushed into this so it’s not his fault that he doesn’t want to accept-” 

“N’Tharn please, you misunderstand. My intent was not to imply that N’Type does not want to accept you or the bond but simply to understand the circumstances that surround you.” 

“Yes but…”

“It’s true. Tharn’s more accepting of the bond than I am.” Type butts in and his eyes are hard as he watches P’Lon and P’Sanders. “I never wanted a soulmate and when I met Tharn and we spoke about this; we decided that we would be friends. That should still work right? No one says romantic soulmates cannot have a platonic relationship.” 

P’Lon finally speaks up, “How much do you know about soulmate bonds N’Type?”

Type shrugs, “The usual. Platonic soulmates see things in shades of grey and romantic bonds allow for color. The bonds only happen by touch except in extremely rare cases like ours.” 

P’Lon nods, “Yes. Conventional soulmate bonds are created through touch because once that first point of contact occurs it creates an intangible connection between the two people. That first contact is crucial as it allows your bond to be rooted. Most times, that’s where the story ends with a nice red bow. However, there are those in the world who do not wish to follow their soulmates, for whatever reason. History and extensive research has shown us that this can lead to disastrous consequences. The side effects start out small with physical aches in the chest and head, temporary amnesia, panic attacks and such.”

“Those can be treated by the pills I prescribed for you. However, that is only a temporary cure. If the bond continues to be rejected however, well the repercussions are much more severe. There have been documented cases of patients vomiting blood, having black outs, their visions fluttering between monochrome and color and in the worst case, their body wasting away. The physical body we have essentially follows what the bond is going through: it dies if it is not cared for and loved and accepted.” 

P’Sanders picks up, “In the case of those with zenith soulmate bonds; the science stays the same but the need is greater. This time, there is no primary contact with you mate so your bond has no foundation, no roots. It requires total acceptance, mentally and physically; between both individuals for the bond to take hold and be appeased. So there’s-”

Whatever P’Sanders is about to say next is lost in the rustling of bed as Type hops off and backs away from them with wide eyes. 

“What do you mean ‘physical acceptance’? What does that mean?” His voice has gone low and his shoulders are tense and all at once, Tharn begins to feel dread curl up his spine.

“N’Type, in the cases of romantic soulmates, physical copulation is required for the bond to be satiated. It needs to know that the two individuals it has chosen belong together. I understand you have a slight aversion to tou-”

“Slight?  _ Slight _ ??” Type’s voice has gone up an octave and his fists clench by his side so tightly that Tharn can see his knuckles turn white. He slides off the bed too, to take a step towards Type. 

But Type just steps further back and he grounds out, “My aversion to touch is not  _ slight _ . It is not a petty dislike. It is an  _ abhorrence _ . The touch of another person will never bring me comfort phi, because I will never want someone’s hands on me,  _ ever again _ .” 

Tharn’s voice cracks as he tries again, “Type, I won’t touch you - please it’ll be okay. We’d still find a way to figure this out. I’m your  _ soulmate _ . I’d find a way to help you, you know I would. Just please... _ stay _ .” 

Tharn reaches out a hand to him, palm up, waiting for Type to take it.

He flicks his eyes to Tharn. Tharn, who’s watching him with pained and suspiciously wet eyes. 

Tharn, whose text messages at 2 in the morning make him smile even when Type’s trying to cram for a test. 

Tharn, who he’s known for such a short time but it still feels like lifetimes. 

Tharn, who held his face in his beautiful, gentle hands, and who opened his heart to him. 

Tharn, who begged him to at least be friends if they couldn’t be more. 

Tharn, who’s begging him right  _ now _ . Not in words but in the tears that slide down his cheek because he knows what Type’s going to say before he can even open his mouth.

He says the words anyways. 

“I can’t do this. I can’t  _ ever  _ do this. I’m not made to love, Tharn. I’m broken and ruined and I’d...I’d ruin you too. I can’t do that to you. I’m sorry...I-” 

And then Type’s yanking open the door and running out, ignoring the calls of the people behind him, ignoring the blinding headache that hits him out of nowhere, ignoring everything but the sound of his feet against the linoleum as he runs away. 

Away from Tharn. Away from the bond. Away from his own failures. 

Type runs and he does not stop. 

_ Ooo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheheh...angst anyone? 
> 
> Sorry! Please don’t be mad! 
> 
> And if you are, yell at me in a review or on tumblr: indiefanficchica


	9. ix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: I never seem to be able to stick to my story planning...which is both awesome and truly annoying….but mostly awesome :D I hope you guys have been enjoying this ride with TharnType because it’s almost over :( I’m gonna miss writing this for sure. 
> 
> And my apologies to everyone who was pissed off with P’Lon and P’Sanders! They’re excitable researchers and that makes them a little lacking in the “hey this kid has some trauma let’s be less blunt” department. They’re both very sorry! 
> 
> A little note to make...this story is most likely going to turn to a rating of E...I think I’m gonna try my hand at a little smut….hehehe
> 
> As always, my greatest thanks and love to mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_41130 for her guidance and critique! If you haven’t checked out her stuff, please do so! She’s also got a TharnType soulmate AU that is to die for! 
> 
> Read, review and enjoy my lovelies!
> 
> Disclaimer: do I look I own them? because i would really really like to...just saying

“Little brother,  _ please _ . Let me take you to the hospital- they can get you some help.” 

“No. No hospitals. They can’t do anything anyway. No one can help with this.” 

Tharn’s voice, despite how hoarse it is, rings with finality and Thorn slumps back, feeling defeated. 

He tries one last time, “Type could. Let me call him. If he knows what you’re going through, he’d come back and accept the bond and you’d be better- you wouldn’t be lying here  _ dying  _ and…”

Thorn cuts himself off when his brother reaches out to squeeze his hand, “I can’t do that Phi and you know why. Type...he- I won’t force him into this; into accepting the bond when he doesn’t want it. And I’m not dying; this is just...extreme side effects. I’ll be fine in a few days once I get my strength back. Those pills will help and then yes, I’ll lose my ability to see color but I will be okay.” 

Thorn knows he’s lying;  _ of course  _ he knows Tharn’s lying to him. The boy couldn’t lie to save his own skin and the lies spilling from his lips are weak but Thorn can’t bring himself to call his brother out on it. 

He casts his mind to three days ago, when he’d been sitting on the couch and he’d looked up to see Tharn stumble in, almost as if he were drunk. Thorn had opened his mouth to rib his brother but had barely spoken a word before Tharn was collapsing to the floor, tears streaming down his eyes. 

In gasping sobs, the story had come out and Thorn held his brother as he cried, until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep. He settled Tharn on the couch and had turned away, ready to call his parents but Tharn grabbed his wrist. 

“Don’t tell mae or pa yet.” 

“Tharn-” 

“Please phi; I don’t want them running back home to worry about a problem they cannot solve. I’ll tell them myself when they come back next week.” 

So Thorn had left it and in the days that passed, he only saw Tharn get worse. He’d wake to pained screams and shaking sobs in the dead of the night, aches that were only relieved for a while by the little green pills that now took the central space on the nightstand. 

He watched as Tharn refused food, unable to keep anything down and even when he would try to eat, it would simply regurgitate an hour later. Tissues speckled with what was most likely blood are hidden in the wastebasket and Thorn wants to scream, rage and cry because he  _ knows _ . 

He’s read about what happens to soul mates who have their bonds forcibly rejected and broken and he sees it happening to his little brother and  _ there is nothing he can do to stop it.  _

Because Tharn is right; there is nothing anyone can do and his brother is slowly dying right in front of him and all he can do is wipe the sweat off Tharn’s brow, squeeze his hand as the aches overtake him and run his hand through his hair as his brother’s vision flickers between color and grey. 

Thorn’s eyes blur with tears but he does not allow them to fall. He needs to be strong; needs his brother to know that he has someone there by his side even if he’s lying through his teeth.

So he squeezes Tharn’s hand tighter and nods, “Yeah, you’re going to be okay.” 

_ Ooo _

Thorn is a light sleeper at the best of times and with Tharn’s recent condition, sleep comes to him even less. 

So he definitely hears it when there’s a clatter of... something from his brother’s room and a groan. By the time Thorn has thrown off his sheets, his door has been yanked open and Tharn leans against the frame, sweat beading at his brow and haphazardly dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. 

“Tharn? What’s wrong?” 

Tharn breathes heavy and the words seem to get stuck in his throat but he forces it out, “Ty-Type. He’s...he’s in trouble. He nee-needs me. I have to go to him. Phi now! I have to go to him!” 

Thorn shakes his head and catches his brother’s arm as the boy heaves himself away from the doorframe and tries to stumble away, “Go where? N’Tharn stop! You’re sick and you don’t know what you’re sayi-”

“No! There’s something wrong with him; I can feel it phi! I need to see him- need to help…”

“You don’t even know  _ where  _ he stays! How do you even know something’s wrong with him?” 

“I just know! And I remember him saying he lives near campus and I...I’ll figure it out. Just.. I need to go to him- phi, will you take me or not??!” 

Tharn’s nearly at the doors, feet shoved into his sneakers and his hand ready to reach out to the bowl with their car keys. He knows very well he cannot drive, knows that he does not know the exact location as to where Type is but  _ he needs to go now and- _

“No.” 

Tharn freezes, breath heaving in his chest and he turns to Thorn, “What?” 

“No. I’m not taking you to Type. Why should I? Why should I care about him when _ he doesn’t give a damn about you?? _ He left you Tharn! He left you and he doesn’t give a shit that you are  **_dying_ ** ! So why the hell would I care about what-”

“Because he’s my soulmate. And I love him.” Tharn’s voice cuts through Thorn’s rant like steel and the breath hitches in Thorn’s chest. He doesn’t think he's ever heard his brother’s voice that cold. 

“I love him, P’Thorn and it doesn’t matter what he’s done or that he doesn’t love me. The fact remains that  _ I do _ . I don’t know him well and I want to and I won’t ever have the chance because our bond is breaking but I know Type is in trouble right now and I am going to him and I am going to help him. If you don’t want to come, then fine. Stay here. But I’m going.” 

Tharn’s yanked open the door when an arm catches his shoulder, “I’m coming. I won’t have you crashing on your way there. Do you know where to go?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” 

_ Ooo _

The car is silent except for Tharn’s heavy breathing and his soft intonations of _ turn left here  _ or  _ go right phi _ . Thorn has no idea how his brother knows where to go because he knows Tharn’s never been to Type’s apartment before nor has he ever heard of the actual location. 

All Tharn knows for sure is that it’s close to campus because Type’s once told him that it takes him 6 minutes to get from his apartment to his university and so that’s Tharn’s starting point. After that, he seems to be going off...his gut. It’s absolutely ridiculous but Thorn drives them anyway. 

He’s said his piece about how he feels and he knows that it makes him sound like a terrible person but Thorn’s only human and Tharn is his younger brother. He made him a promise when he was a baby that he would take care of his nong and if that meant being harsh when his soulmate was being an ass, then so be it. 

Twenty minutes later, Tharn suddenly jerks in his seat and his head swivels to the right, to a building they’ve passed, “There. He’s there. Turn back phi.” 

Thorn does and in a few minutes, they’re parked in front of a 12-storey apartment complex. Tharn struggles with his seatbelt but manages to get it off before Thorn can reach over and then he’s stumbling out of the car. 

“Do you even know which floor he’s on?” 

“10. Type likes heights and I remember Champ mentioned it once.” Tharn’s already pulling open the door and marching in, leaving Thorn to scramble after him. 

The elevator is quiet too, something Thorn is thankful for because he thinks if he has to hear elevator music right now, he might put a fist through a wall. Then the doors are sliding open and they’re both stumbling out onto the 10th floor, Tharn’s head swinging left and right.

“Now where? Which room?” 

For the first time since he’s come barging into Thorn’s room, Tharn looks uncertain. He’s sloped against the wall, one hand against the plaster and the other fisted into the edge of his shirt. He looks at his older brother with unfocused eyes, panic evident in the orbs. 

“I don’t...I don’t know! I don’t know where he is and oh god phi- what am I  _ doing  _ here? What if he doesn’t want to see me? I don’t know where Type is and-”

Thorn’s reaching out to pull his brother against him and he shushes him, “Yes you do. You know where Type is; just like you knew where he lived. And if he doesn’t want to see you; if he doesn’t want your help even when you know he needs it, then he’s an idiot. A very cute, lanky idiot but an idiot nonetheless.” 

They’re both around the same height but Tharn feels smaller than him right now, encased as he is in his brother’s arms. There’s a wet chuckle against his chest and he can hear Tharn mumble, “Don’t call my soulmate an idiot.” 

“I have a feeling I’ll be calling him worse names, little brother. Now concentrate. You know where he is. Focus.” 

Tharn takes a deep breath against him and his body goes still even as Thorn keeps holding him. The seconds tick by and Thorn wonders why it feels that taking a breath would break the spell that surrounds them in the half lit hallway. 

Then suddenly, Tharn is pulling away and he turns to the right, “There.” 

He walks and Thorn feels the breath rush back into his chest and he follows his brother to apartment 1004. Without preamble, Tharn raises a fist and knocks hard twice.

One beat. Two beats. Three beats. 

On the fourth thud of his heart against his chest, the door swings open and a young boy looks out with a weary face. There is no recognition on his face for a second and Thorn feels the unease creep up his spine -  _ god have they chosen the wrong apartment? Is Type even here? Was Tharn wro- _

“Ai’Tharn! What are you doing here? Who’s this? You know what- I don’t care. Just get in here!” 

And then the boy is yanking Tharn in and Thorn’s going in right behind him; relief weighing heavy in his chest.

The relief dissipates almost immediately when he walks further into the one bedroom studio and sees Type concerningly pale and sweaty on the bed. The blankets are tangled around his legs and he sobs as he thrashes in his sleep, begging an invisible entity; it’s increasingly evident he’s caught in the throes of a nightmare. 

Another boy is perched on the edge of the bed, a wet towel in his hands but he stands when he sees Tharn. 

“He’s been caught in his nightmare and I can’t wake him up- fuck just please help him!” 

Tharn is frozen in the middle of the room but he moves when Type cries out again; stumbling towards the bed and his hands immediately curl around Type’s clenched fists. 

“Type- Type I’m here. It’s okay...breathe  _ tilak _ ...breathe...I’m here. I’m here and you’re going to be okay. I love you...I love you...just breathe.” 

If anyone seems surprised by the term of endearment or the love confession, none of the other boys show it. They all watch as Tharn presses soft kisses to Type’s head, his cheeks, his eyelids, his hands; all the while asking him to breathe and reminding Type that he’s there and slowly something changes. 

Type’s breathing becomes less labored, though his face is still pinched. But his pleas taper off and he hiccups softly, a few tears still escaping his shut eyes. Tharn too, Thorn sees the difference in his brother; gone is the furrow that seemed to make a home between his eyebrows and his face has a healthy flush on it, his breaths sound normal rather than sickly. 

Ignoring the others in the room, Tharn gets on the bed and maneuvers himself and Type so that he’s now leaning against the headboard and Type is curled under his arms. Type fusses a bit but his twitches die down as Tharn hushes him softly and presses a kiss to his sweaty hair. When Type’s finally still and his breathing evens out, Tharn looks at the other two boys in the room. 

The slightly taller nong who’d opened the door for them speaks first, “How’d you find the apartment? You’ve never been here before. How’d you even know Type was in trouble?” 

Tharn shrugs, careful not to move the sleeping boy on his chest, “I can’t explain it. I was at home, trying to sleep and then my chest started hurting. Not like the way it’s been doing so ever since Type re...well, it was different. There was like a...an urgency; that I  _ needed  _ to come here because something was wrong. I’ve never been in the apartment but I just knew that it was close to campus. The rest...the bond just knew. Like last time at the hospital. I just knew where Type was.” 

“I asked my brother to drive me since I very well couldn’t do it myself and- shia! Sorry; I never introduced you guys.” 

Thorn chuckles, “Well, there was a bit of an emergency. Sawadee-krap, I’m Thorn Kirigun; Tharn’s older brother.” 

The other two boys  _ wai  _ and introduce themselves as Techno and Champ. They don’t tell him that they’re soulmates and Thorn doesn’t need them to. In the few minutes he’s been here, he’s seen the small touches the two have exchanged, how Techno’s eyes seem to search Champ’s with a question and how it’s answered just as silently. 

“How has he been?” Thorn asks about Type and he sees Tharn’s skeptical look from the corner of his eye….which okay, he deserves that. He hasn’t been the nicest about Type but one can’t really blame him. 

Nonetheless, Thorn knows he’d overstepped his place (a bit) and he sends his brother a look of apology. 

Techno leans against Champ, dark circles evident under his eyes, “He’s been shit. And he wouldn’t even let us help for the most part.” 

He flicks his eyes up to Tharn, “After that day...when he came back from the hospital, I found him puking in the toilet and there was blood. Type told us what he did and I was so mad at him and I wanted Champ to call you and bring you here so we could knock some sense into both of you.” 

“Both of us?” His brother looks confused in the face of Techno’s irritation. 

“Yeah! Both of you. Because Type was the idiot that ran away and you were the idiot that  _ let  _ him run away. I told you, you need to keep a firmer hand on him because he’s an idiot and-” 

Type takes that moment to snuffle and groan and Techno’s jaw shuts with an audible clamp. When the boy has finally settled, Champ pulls Techno closer towards him. 

“Ai’No, you know it’s not really their fault.”

Techno groans softly and drops his head into his hands before turning to hide his face in Champ’s neck. Champ pats his head softly and continues to speak, “Type wouldn’t let me call you; made me delete your number from my phone and then changed his password so I couldn’t access it and call you. He’s stupidly stubborn like that.” 

“Yeah...he is.” 

Champ shifts on the couch, pulling Techno onto his lap and opening up half the seat for Thorn if he wants it. When the other boy shakes his head and continues to lean against the wall, Champ shrugs and goes on, “He’s been running a fever on and off for the past few days and he hasn’t been able to keep much down. The aches are worse than normal and he’s been doubling his dose but I don’t think it helps. At one point, he lost his vision for nearly an hour and it freaked us all out. No and I have tried to help as much as we could but tonight was the worst.”

“Type’s had nightmares and his...episodes before but this was one of the first times we couldn’t pull him out of it. I honestly was ready to call P’Lon and then you showed up. Thank you for that, by the way.” 

“He’s my soulmate. I couldn’t leave him in pain.” 

“Even though he did the same to you?” Surprisingly, the vehement statement does not come from Thorn. 

Techno’s the one who’s pulled himself from the comfort of Champ’s neck and he’s watching Tharn with heated eyes, ignoring his soulmate’s protest. “You said you love him; why-  _ how _ ? How can you love him despite only knowing him for two weeks and despite knowing that he’d purposely broken the bond, not caring what happens to you? How can you love him Tharn?” 

The apartment is still, nobody daring to speak. They’re all watching Tharn and Tharn...Tharn watches them all and then his eyes move down to Type. 

He knows Techno is right; knows that his brother is right. How can he love Type? He’s known him all of two weeks. He’s been punched by him, been rejected by him and Tharn had to beg him to at least be friends, to give him that small reprieve.

In every moment, Type has refused to open himself up to Tharn, despite the man doing the same. He's caused Tharn so much pain...so how  _ can _ Tharn love him?

Tharn looks down at the boy in his arms. He catalogues the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, how limp his hair is, how thin he feels in his arms. How, despite his loathing of touch, Type snuffles and curls closer to Tharn in his sleep.

And Tharn smiles; because there’s his answer. 

He keeps his eyes on Type, letting his fingers run comforting circles on the boy’s wrist and he chooses his words with care, “I love him because even when he shouldn’t have given me a chance, he did. He trusted me; even if it was just to be his friend. I look at him and I see someone worthy of being loved. I see someone who is afraid and I want to erase that fear. I love him because he’s strong and willful, not ready to take anyone’s shit, not even his own soulmate’s. I love him not just because a higher power deemed it so; but because I looked at Type and...and I saw myself. I saw a boy who just wanted to be loved despite the terrible hand he’s been dealt with in life.”

“Type doesn’t love me yet and I won’t force him to. I won’t even force him to accept the bond, even now. Yes, his rejection of it is killing both me and him but the bond knows that he is mine and I am his. If it had truly broken, I would have never been able to find him. It’s not over between me and him. He might be stubborn but so am I. And you’re right Ai’No, I shouldn’t have let him run away. That’s a mistake I’ve committed twice; I don’t plan on doing so for the third time. This time, I will fight. I will show Type that he’s worthy of being touched; that whatever makes him think that he’s broken and not right for me...I will show him he’s wrong. Because I’m not perfect either. We were meant for each other; we were given to each other for a reason. I’ll go to my grave showing him that reason if I have to.” 

All three of them watch him and then Techno slumps, looking like the weight of the world has finally been taken off his shoulders. When he looks up, his eyes are wet but he’s grinning, “Took you long enough. We’ve been waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and step up. Come on, Champ. I wanna go home and sleep.” 

Techno stands and holds out his hand for Champ, who takes it and heaves himself off the couch.

“Wait...what about the whole no touching thing?” Thorn asks, stepping away from the wall.

Champ shrugs, “That’s for Type to figure out. If he’d stopped being a dumbass, none of this would have happened.” 

He grins though at Tharn, “Just be prepared for a punch. And for him to yell at us; he’s gonna hate the fact we basically handed him over to you.” 

Both boys chuckle and Techno takes that moment to duck down and smooth a hand over Type’s hair, “Stubborn idiot. Text us tomorrow on how it all goes down.” 

Without another word, both of them wave goodbye and are out the door. Thorn looks at his brother for a moment before sighing and running a hand over his hair, “Don’t come home with another bruise tomorrow, please.” 

“No promises.” 

“That’s... fair. See you tomorrow little brother.” 

Thorn heads for the door, sleep tugging at his lids when Tharn calls him back. He turns around.

“Thank you phi.” 

“I’ve got your back little brother. Always. And now, I guess, I’ve got his too.” He jerks his chin at the boy snuggled up against his brother and smiles. “Good luck. Susuna.” 

And with that, he steps out into the hallways and pulls the door shut. 

_ Ooo _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tilak: darling 
> 
> Was that little bit better? Are your hearts happy? Is Tharn gonna get punched again? Who knows! 
> 
> Only 2 more chapters left you guys!!! TWO! 
> 
> Come cry with me about that in a review or on tumblr: indiefanficchica


	10. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: Welcome to the last chapter guys!!! 
> 
> I'm kidding! I promised you smut and SMUT YOU SHALL GET!!!! 
> 
> Right after I give you more angst...hehehe
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Type opens up about his sexual assault and he is a little graphic so please be warned. Skip over it if you need to; the section has been marked by asterisks ** like so - you’ll know where it begins and ends.
> 
> My greatest thanks goes to mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110 for her words of praise, critique and honestly...her just agreeing to beta me. It means more than you will ever know! 
> 
> Disclaimer: The beautiful creation of P'Mame and no one else's!

Tharn breathes in deep and the absence of pain is…. _ overwhelming _ . 

There’s still an ache in his chest but that is a familiar one; a throbbing that’s been there even when he was around Type. But the agony that would rip through him every second during the last three days, knowing his soulmate doesn’t want him, knowing that he cannot help his soulmate; that anguish has calmed. 

He leans down again to press his nose against Type’s hair, letting the scent of sweat, grass and salt surround him. God, he’s missed this boy. Missed his scent, missed speaking to him, missed his smirks, the petulance, the snark, the soft smiles when he thinks no one is looking; all of it. 

And isn’t that a weird thought? To have missed someone so much; feeling the loss of them like a stab to the gut despite having known them for two weeks. How is it that he can feel so much for Type in such a short amount of time? 

Type takes that moment to twitch, forehead wrinkling and fist curling around Tharn’s t-shirt. Tharn presses soft lips to the creased lines, “Shh..I’m here Type. You’re going to be alright. I’m here- I’m not going anywhere. Just sleep.”

It calms Type and Tharn knows it calms the bond too. He can feel it in his chest, fluttering in joy and yet straining,  _ reaching  _ for Type because it wants more. But Tharn cautions it;  _ be patient _ he tells it -  _ wait _ . 

The bond strains even more; it does not want to wait. And Tharn responds in kind; he is nothing if not determined. 

_ No. You have to wait. He will come to us. He is ours and we are his. But we must wait.  _

The bond thrums in his chest but finally quietens and Tharn releases the tension in his jaw. He yawns, feeling sleep tug at his eyelids. He is warm -  _ wanted loved -  _ in the comfort of Type’s arms and he presses one last kiss to the slumbering boy’s forehead before sleep finally pulls him under. 

_ Ooo  _

Sunlight across his eyes is what rouses him from sleep. 

The emptiness in his arms is the other. 

Tharn turns his head and his arms blindly reach out, hoping to touch skin but all he feels are empty sheets. Unease grips him and his eyes flicker open and then shut against the bright light against his corneas. 

Groaning softly, he turns to the other side to get away from the light and opens his eyes again and he finds what he’s searching for. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Type sits on the couch, arms curled around himself and he looks better than last night. He’s obviously taken a shower because his hair is no longer greasy and he’s wearing shorts and a grey undershirt. A healthy flush has overtaken his cheeks and Tharn is grateful for the change. 

But Type’s bloodshot eyes are still wary and he looks at Tharn like he’s very much expecting the other man to jump him. 

In fact, when Tharn shifts to sit up on the bed, Type’s fingers tighten around his arms and he trembles. 

Tharn runs a hand through his own hair and sighs, trying not to let his disappointment show. He knows how skittish Type is, knows that there very well would be repercussions for him being in the apartment and in Type’s bed in the first place. 

But there’s a small frisson of hope that blooms in him. 

Because Type woke up in his arms and he didn’t push Tharn away. He didn’t punch him, didn’t shove him off the bed, didn’t scream. Instead, he’d just taken a seat on the couch and is now asking him a question. He’s not even thrown Tharn out of the apartment yet. 

Tharn takes a deep breath; there’s a chance. He knows there is. But he’s going to have to be careful; one wrong move and everything’s going to crash and burn around him. 

So he takes it slow. He eases both feet on the floor and speaks softly, “Could I use your bathroom first? Once I’m done, we’ll talk.” 

Type frowns at him but he lets out a small huff and then tilts his head towards a cupboard, “There’s towels in there. Extra toothbrush under the sink.” 

“Thank you. I’ll be out quick.” 

Tharn’s pulling out the towel from the small brown cupboard when Type speaks up again, “What if I don’t want to talk? What if I just want you to leave after you’re done? Would you do that?” 

Would he? Would he back off this time and then come back again? He does want to push Type but then he also remembers the words he’d spoken to Techno last night:  _ We were meant for each other; we were given to each other for a reason.  _

Type needs to know that and so Tharn steels himself and he turns around, “I wouldn’t.” 

He sees the eyes widening and Type’s mouth opens, no doubt in order to bash Tharn verbally. He speaks before that can happen, “10 minutes. I’ll be out in ten minutes and then I want 5 minutes to speak. After that, if you really want me to leave and to be gone from your life, I will.”

He’s in the bathroom before Type can respond. In the ten minutes that he takes to shower, brush and stare at the mirror, Tharn simply...breathes. 

He doesn’t think about what words he’s going to use when his 5 minutes begin. He doesn’t think about the pain he and Type have gone through in the last three days. He doesn’t think about his family, his friends, Techno, Champ, Lhong...nothing. 

Tharn simply runs his fingers through his wet hair, looks at himself in the mirror and he  _ breathes _ . In his chest, the bond pulses, straining to go back outside, to its mate. 

Tharn consoles it;  _ not yet - patience- hush now.  _ Wiping his face dry, he dresses back in his shirt and sweatpants and drops the towel in the yellow laundry basket before opening the door. 

In his absence, the bed has been stripped and the sheets lay in a crumpled ball on the floor. Type sits on the edge of the bed and he looks up as Tharn walks out and takes a seat on the couch. 

Type speaks first, “How’d you find me? Did Champ call you?” 

“No, he didn’t. I found you on my own.” 

Type’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “How?” 

“Through the bond. The same way I found you that first time in the hospital.” 

Type flushes a bit at the memory but then he shakes his head, “No, that’s not possible. I rejected the bond- you shouldn’t have been able to find me!” 

“I know. But I still did. You think you’ve rejected the bond but you haven’t. Not really. Because if you had Type, if you truly did not want me here, I would have never been able to find you. I wouldn’t have known that something was wrong with you. But I knew and I found you. And when I got here, you were in the middle of a nightmare. Champ said it might have been an episode but that he couldn’t wake you up. And I didn’t know if I could. I didn’t even think you’d want me here. But you were in pain. I couldn’t just stand there and leave you like that.” 

“Why not? I did the same to you. I left you back in the hospital and I didn’t care what happened to you.” Type’s voice is harsh but the pain in his eyes belies him and Tharn aches to touch him. But he holds himself back - not yet. 

“You do Type. You care. If you didn’t then you wouldn't have asked Champ to delete my number. You didn’t want him to call me because you think you don’t deserve my help. You think you don’t deserve to be loved and cherished but you do Type. You deserve it and I want you to know why.”

“Stop it. Stop talking.” Type’s pleas reach him but this time Tharn doesn’t let it stop him. He continues over Type, speaks bluntly, using his words from the night before. 

“I love you Type. Not just because of our bond but because of  _ who you are _ . You’re strong and passionate and humble. You trusted me, gave me a chance to be your friend. You’re stubborn, stupidly stubborn but so am I. You think you’re broken and ruined and for some reason, you think you’d ruin me but that’s not true. You won’t. If you’re worried that whatever happened in your past is going to come back and ruin this, ruin _us_ \- it won’t. You have to trust me; just let me-”

“ **NO!** ” Type thunders and he’s pulling himself up to his full height, rage and anguish burning in his eyes. “You don’t understand, you can’t ever- you don’t know what’s happened to me! You will never understand why I-”

Tharn doesn’t back down. He’s standing too, taking a step forward, watching as Type trembles in rage but doesn’t step back, “Then talk to me! Open up to me Type! I’m here! Don’t run away! I’m here and I’m listening and I’m on your side; don’t you see that? I have been on your side from the very beginning; from the day you punched me in the face to now. Just stop running away from me. Talk to me. _I'm here_.” 

And Type breaks. 

He’s crumpling down, the back of his knees hitting the bed and he’s falling, tears streaming from his eyes and chest aching with the weight of his sobs. 

Tharn moves then, stepping forward and moving to his own knees in front of Type. He reaches out a hand but doesn’t touch, letting it hover over the boy’s wrist.

“I’m right here, Type. Talk to me. No matter what, I will be here. I promise.” 

“I can’t...I’m not strong enough.” Type hiccups out. 

“Yes, you are. I know you are.” Tharn brings his hand down gently, bringing small pinpricks of heat onto Type’s wrist. 

Neither of them move. Neither of them speak. Type still cries, breath stuttering and Tharn stays on his knees, watching him. Bangkok moves outside the window, outside the apartment but neither boy cares. Right now, in this moment, it’s Type and Tharn, two souls aching to open to each other, two souls reaching for the other. 

***

And then finally Type speaks. 

“When I was eleven, I was raped.” 

He hears the hitch in Tharn’s breath, feels the pressure on his wrist and he keeps his eyes down, unable to look at the man in front of him. Once he starts, it’s like he can’t stop and the words fall from his lips without hesitation. 

“It was a roofer who worked at my dad’s resort. I knew him; he was a friend. He used to play football with me and he’d let me help him with the roof. Then one day, he told me he knew of this huge football field where we could play and I went with him. He knocked me out from the back; I was so small, I couldn’t have stopped him. When I woke up, I was tied to a chair in a dusty room.” 

“It was filthy there; I still remember. Cobwebs on the ceiling, dust and grime everywhere. He was there and pulled that gate shut and he said...he said he was going to have fun with me.” 

Type hears the break in his own voice, can feel the memory of that day clanging in the back of his mind and he lets it take over, eyes sliding shut. 

“I screamed for help but no one could hear me. I tried to get out but those ropes were tight; they burned against my wrists. And I could do nothing as he...he touched me. Kissed me...everywhere. He groped me, made me use my hands and mouth to pleasure him. I cried and cried,  _ begged  _ him to stop but he never did. He said that it was good, that I made him feel good, that I was born to give  _ him  _ pleasure. He didn’t stop; not till my clothes were ripped away from me and he was in between my legs on the floor and blood-”

***

And then Type can’t say more because he’s being pulled forward and hands are in his hair and there’s warm tears on his neck. 

“Type. Type, god I’m sorry. I’m sorry that- I’m sorry!” 

Tharn’s squeezing him and part of Type wants to pull away but he’s sobbing too and god he  **wants-** needs…

His hands move up and then he’s hugging Tharn back too, fingers clutched in the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“Why are you apologizing?” 

Tharn squeezes him tighter and his lips move against Type’s hair, “Because you didn’t deserve that. What that...that  _ son of a bitch _ _did_ to you- you didn’t deserve any of that! You were a child!” 

Type pulls away first, not completely. Just enough that he can see Tharn’s face. But the rest of his body is still in contact with the man in front of him and the warmth that surrounds him is..is  _ good _ . He doesn’t want to leave that warmth. 

“But I went with him! I followed him; if I’d just stayed home-”

“You were a child.” Despite the tears running down his face, Tharn’s eyes burn with anger and his tone is unyielding. “You went with someone who you thought was your friend; an adult whom you trusted. That is not your fault. God- you were a child! How could you think I would ever blame you; ever think that you were at fault for this? Why would you think I wouldn’t want you?” 

“Because I’m tainted Tharn! He touched me-  _ used me _ ! And now I can’t ever have another’s hands on me again! Every time someone touches me, I think of him and the way he touched me. The way he kissed me- it disgusts me! I can’t love someone because the memory of him rots everything go-” 

And then he’s being cut off once more because now there are lips on his. Firm but gentle, Tharn’s lips press against his and Type’s eyes are shut and he’s  _ drowning  _ because he can’t-  _ the lips on his, the hands in his hair _ \-  _ let me have fun with you kid  _ \- memory and reality...he can’t tell the difference and he can’t  _ breathe- _

Tharn speaks against his lips, “Remember where you are. Remember  _ who  _ you are. You are Type Thiwat Phawattakun. You are 19 years old and you are  _ my  _ soulmate and I am  _ yours _ . Remember  _ me  _ Type. Make this a new memory.” 

He lifts Type’s hands, places them on his face, “Touch my face; feel my eyes, my nose, my lips. I am not him, Type. You are beautiful and you were born to love me and I was born to love you. Remember that.” 

Slowly, Type moves his fingertips from where they’ve been placed and he feels. He runs his fingers over soft eyebrows, over closed eyelids, feels the whisper of lashes against his skin. He feels the prominent nose, the slant of cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the thin lips...and slowly...reality takes over. 

He is here, he is home, he is with Tharn and he is  _ safe _ . He is warm. He is loved and that realization gives him just enough courage to tentatively lean forward and press his lips over Tharn’s. 

The little jolt Tharn gives when Type kisses him worries Type at first but then Tharn’s hands moves to his waist and he’s smiling into the kiss. 

“My Type; sweet Type. I love you,  _ tilak _ . I love you and I’m here. I’m never going to leave you, never going to see you as ruined. I love you, you sweet boy.” 

Type pulls back from the kiss, breathing heavy and he scowls at Tharn. The tears streaming down his face ruins the effect but Tharn opts to keep quiet. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Sweet boy? Or _tilak_? How about baby? Or maybe sweetheart?”

“Do you want to die?” But Type’s smiling and Tharn’s laughing and he’s finally standing and pulling Type to stand along with him. 

Tharn rests his forehead against Type’s, fingers curling around the other’s and he smiles, “I’ll figure out a name you like then. After all, you are mine.” 

And  _ fuck _ , that makes his heart burst because how long has he waited to hear that? How long has he waited for someone to love him and thought that he would never get that? But now he’s standing here, head resting against another boy who loves him despite all the shit Type’s put him through and for the first time in his life, Type thinks that yes, maybe he does deserve to be loved. 

So he smiles too and raises a hand to smack Tharn lightly against the chest as he pulls back to lock eyes with the man, “Idiot. Don’t forget, you are mine too.” 

And the bond  _ explodes  _ between them. 

Both boys jerk with a gasp as that ever familiar ache in their chest expands outwards and  fire  runs down their veins, through their muscles, burning every ligament, joint, limb, everything in its wake. And just as quickly as it came, the burn dies and there’s no pain. Nothing. There is...calm.

Tharn’s looking at him with utter joy in his eyes and he’s crying, “Did you...you just- you accepted the bond. Type-”

Type leans in and presses an apology to the corner of Tharn’s lips, “Shh. I’m sorry Tharn. I’m so sorry I hurt you; that I was such a jerk to you. Please forgive me?” 

Tharn’s still crying but he’s nodding and he presses his forehead against Type’s neck, breathing in deep. The bond is fluttering in his chest and it’s  _ happy _ . Because this time when it reached out for its mate, it wasn’t pushed away. 

It has been acknowledged. It has been  _ welcomed _ . 

It has touched its mate and finally, they are complete; they are  **one** . 

Type chuckles wetly and he brings his left hand up to run it through Tharn’s hair. 

That’s when he sees the newest addition to his body and he yelps. Tharn pulls away, worry and a question on his lips but his eyes fall on Type’s hand. 

There on his skin, coming from behind his undershirt and running down the expanse of his forearm, wrapping around his wrist and then nestling along the curve of his pinky, is a red line. But no, it’s not  _ just  _ a red line, Type realizes. 

It’s Tharn’s name, written over and over in looped red calligraphy over Type’s skin, marking him as Tharn’s. Type looks over to the other man and sees that, yes, that’s his own name on Tharn’s skin, burning bright against the pale flesh. 

“This- what just happened? What is this?” 

Tharn’s shaking his head but he’s grinning and he’s pulling Type close to him to press a kiss against his lips, “I...I’ve read about this. When I was searching for more information about soulmates and their bonds, I read about this. Zenith soul bonds; meant to last entire lifetimes, they’re marked with the names of their mate. You and I...we were always meant for each other Type. I am yours and you are mine. For lifetimes.” 

Yellow sunlight streams into his bedroom and it makes Tharn’s hazel green eyes sparkle. His hair glints dark brown and the red flush on his face makes Type smile. 

He nods, “Lifetimes.”

He can do that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just going to take a moment here...to freak out...because this story...god this story is the longest I’ve ever written and perhaps the only one I’ve ever been so invested in to finish. It started out as just this tiny little thing and now I’ve put so much love into this fic and into these boys that...fuck i just need Season 2 right now. My long heartfelt thank you will come in the last chapter of this crazy fic! 
> 
> Come freak out with me about Gulf and Mew and Joong and Nine and ALL THE BOYS on tumblr: indiefanficchica and don’t forget to drop a review. Just one more chapter you guys!!!! AAAAAAHHHH!


	11. xi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A.N: AND HERE WE GO!!! Welcome to the very last chapter of Rang De Basanti! 
> 
> My sincere thanks to every single person who reviewed, favorited and followed this fic and myself; I have nothing but love for you guys. And don’t worry...I have more planned for you guys! These two idiots got their hooks in me and I’ll be writing about them for a long while.
> 
> The biggest thank you goes (of course) to mostmagicalf_kingunicorn41_43110. When I first messaged her, asking her to beta this fic, I was absolutely terrified because I’d never asked another writer to do this for me and she was soooo good at what she did and I didn’t think she would ever say yes. But she did and now I can’t imagine this story being what it is without her. Her comments, suggestions and critique were paramount to this fic and I am so so very grateful to her! Thank you for everything and I can’t wait to pick your brain for the next one <3 
> 
> Disclaimer: These boys are the sole work of P’Mame and I’m just horsing around here. 
> 
> As promised; I have delivered smut! Now it is my first time ever writing smut but I have taken inspiration from the….numerous kinky, feeling infused, pwp, toe-curling smut fics I’ve read so I have hope…get ready for porn with feelings!

It takes a while but Type heals. They both do. 

It’s not easy by any standard. Sometimes Type falls into an episode when Tharn’s kissing him and he can’t differentiate between his memories and his reality. Sometimes he lashes out at Tharn about stupid things that he can’t remember and sometimes Tharn lashes right back. They fight and they argue and they snark at one another but they always come back to each other in the end. 

In the end, Tharn will still be there, telling Type to breathe, reminding him where he is, who he is and who he’s with. And Type slowly remembers and he comes back to himself. 

In the end, Type will bring Tharn a sprite and press his head against Tharn’s shoulder in apology, looking all the while like a kicked puppy and Tharn will smile softly and kiss him on the forehead. 

Sometimes they have days when they don’t speak to each other for a variety of reasons: they’re angry, they’re busy, they’re petty. In the end, one of them steps forward with an apology and the other meets them with a smile and their world swirls in bright colors around them. 

And so they heal. 

_ Ooo _

They meet each other’s families and it goes...just about as well as one could hope. 

Tharn's parents absolutely love Type and Thanya clings to him like a limpet, loudly announcing that Type is now her favourite. They welcome him into the family with open arms and with such joy that Type wonders if Tharn never told them of how he’d actually hurt their son. 

He brings it up to P’Thorn when they’re both left outside near the pool after dinner. The older man chuckles and reaches down to roll up the ankles of his pants. Settling himself on the edge of the pool, Thorn dips his feet in the cool water and looks at Type. 

“We never told them; Tharn did not want to. When the two of you had that...rift, for lack of a better word, my parents and Thanya were away on a work trip and I was the only one there at home. I wanted to tell them and bring them back home but Tharn didn’t want them to worry about something they couldn’t even control so we both kept quiet about it. And then, you two made up and it didn’t seem like we ever needed to talk about it with them so they don’t know. Why? Do you want them to know?” 

Type sighs and moves to join Thorn near the pool. He shivers a bit as he submerges his feet, “I don’t know. All I do know is that I feel guilty. You guys have welcomed me and all I can think about is how I hurt Tharn and how I very nearly killed him.” 

Thorn scoffs and he shakes his head, “Ah, Tharn was right. You really are stubborn. Look, if anything, I should be the one feeling guilty. When Tharn woke up that night, needing to go to you because you were in trouble, I told him not to go. I was so angry at you. You made my brother cry, you hurt him immensely and he was dying and all I could think about was that it was all your fault.” 

Type’s face crumples and he looks away, shame burning in his eyes. But P’Thorn lays a gentle hand on his shoulder; Type tenses for a second before he relaxes and he turns back to the older man. 

“I know it wasn’t really your fault. But at that moment, all I could see was that my younger brother was suffering and I could do nothing to help him. But you did help him in the end N’Type. You accepted him and you accepted your bond and that’s all you should think about.” 

“I still feel guilty. I still feel like I deserve a smack upsid-  _ oi _ !” 

Whatever Type tries to say is lost in a mouthful of water as P’Thorn unabashedly kicks him into the pool. When he emerges, hair sticking to his forehead and spluttering, Thorn grins at him, “There you go. You’ve been properly chastised so no more feeling guilty.” 

Tharn of course, takes that moment to step outside, “Hey guys; dessert is -  _ shia _ ! Type, why are you in the pool?!”

“Your stupid brother shoved me!” 

Tharn rounds on his unapologetic looking brother. But out of the corner of his eye, he sees an evil smirk stretch across his soulmate’s face and Tharn works very hard to keep Thorn’s focus on him as Type inches forward. 

“P’Thorn! Why would you shove him into the pool? He’s going to get sick!” 

“Well, he was being stubborn and feeling guilty for no reason! He wanted a smack upside the head so I did him one better: I kicked him. Not my fault the pool was right there to cushion his fall.” P’Thorn shrugs and he very much does not see Type reaching for his foot. 

“Okay fair enough. But it is your fault for sitting so close to the edge after you shoved him in there.” 

“Wha-  _ shia _ !” 

And down goes his immaculate brother. Thorn looks very much like a wet fish as he levels a glare at a raucously laughing Type and Tharn. 

“You both suck. These were just washed!” But he grins too and then his parents are coming outside and Thanya’s pouting because she wants to play in the pool too.

There’s laughter as the two of them are bundled into towels and Tharn’s grinning at Type as he rubs his hair but Type looks at Thorn. He catches the older man’s eyes and then gives him a smile. The  _ thank you _ goes unsaid between them but he knows P’Thorn understands. 

_ Ooo _

Type’s mother absolutely fawns over her new son-in-law and it makes Type flush in embarrassment and his ears turn red when Tharn grins smugly at him. Type’s only saving grace is his father who looks at Tharn through the phone and scowls at him. 

“Hah! Such a weak looking boy. You think you’re worthy of my son? You think just because the universe says this is your soulmate, I would agree? Hah! I do not agree! You’re not worthy of my little man!” 

Type’s mother smacks him on the head for that and there’s general grumbling and pleading as Tharn tries to win over his father-in-law. It doesn’t go all too well and when they end the conversation, with Type promising that he’ll come home for the holidays with Tharn, his dad makes a parting threat. 

“I heard you don’t like spicy food. It would be a shame if all the fresh vegetables and eggs were suddenly over when you come! Bye son! I still think you could have found someone better!” 

Tharn looks like a kicked puppy and he turns woeful eyes onto a smirking Type, “I’m in trouble aren’t I?” 

“Oh yes. My dad’s not going to give up easily until he thinks you’re worthy of me.” 

“We’re in the 21st century. Worthy of you- there’s a damn tattoo on my arm that says I’m worthy of you.” Tharn grumbles and he squishes his face in Type’s chest, relaxing when he feels Type runs gentle hands through his hair. 

“Don’t you worry. You’re not going to be able to get rid of that easily. You’re stuck with me for a very long time.” 

Tharn smiles against Type’s chest and he looks up at his smiling soulmate, “How long?” 

In a familiar move, Type leans down to press a soft kiss to the man’s forehead, “Lifetimes.” 

_ Ooo  _

A year passes and their lives change in small ways. 

Type becomes less nervous when he goes outside; able to let shoulders brush against his. The first time he thinks he’s finally able to do so, he goes to the bar that Tharn had called him to, all those months ago, and he watches his soulmate perform. He sees Tharn’s look of surprise and pride when he sees Type sitting there and if at one point, he sings directly at Type, smile warming his face, well Type just ignores the hoots of his stupid friends. 

Tharn connects with Lhong again and it takes them a while to heal too. But there comes a day when he’s able to hug his best friend because Lhong tells him he’s found someone. Not a soulmate but just someone who looks at Lhong the way Lhong used to look at Tharn. They grow back together slowly and it’s perhaps the best scenario Tharn could ask for. 

Both Tharn and Type agree to let P’Lon document their soulbond but they ask for complete anonymity. Type remembers being in the spotlight as a child and it’s not an experience he ever wants to re-live. P’Lon agrees without hesitation and they spend a few weeks chatting, along with P’Sanders; answering questions and contributing new information to the world of soul bonds. 

When the paper gets published, it brings forward other couples who’ve noticed strange things about their bonds; soul tattoos manifesting or burning sensations when someone else touches their soulmate. It excites P’Lon to no end and he habitually calls up both boys to pick their brains about their bonds and to let them know about other couples he’s heard about. 

Techno and Champ get engaged too. 

Well not really… but it happens while they’re at P’Jeed’s bar. Tharn’s just come back from his set, slinging an arm over Type’s shoulder and Techno’s taking a sip of his beer when Champ pops the question.

“Hey; will you marry me?” 

Techno chokes on his beer and needs a whack on his back from Tharn to finally clear his airway. On the other hand, Type’s laughing into his plate of fries because _of course_ , this is how his friends end up getting engaged. 

“Cha- what now? And what the fuck- that’s a chicken wing in your hand! Why would you ask me that now?” 

“I was eating the wing and thought ‘damn I love chicken wings’ and then I looked at you and thought ‘damn I love you too’ and well... I want the world to know you’re mine. We wouldn’t get married now, but maybe after graduation? We’ll have a big wedding right after graduation. What do you say?” 

And Techno’s crying but he says yes and Champ just has enough time to wipe his hand on a wet towelette before his arms are filled with a crying soulmate and he’s grinning at a laughing Tharn and Type. 

“I’ll get you a ring soon too ‘kay? Just give me a year or two.” 

They get drinks on the house after that and P’Jeed slides another plate of chicken wings onto their table too….which makes Type wonder if that had been Champ’s plan all along... 

_ Ooo  _

Tharn moves in with Type at some point during the year. It’s not an official thing by any means. It’s just that one day Type wakes up and goes to use his bathroom and he realizes that he’s wearing Tharn’s undershirt and that’s Tharn’s toothbrush next to his and Tharn’s favorite cologne and razor are staring back at him. 

It doesn’t make him freak out. If anything, Type laughs. 

It’s so like them not to realize how Tharn has been staying over practically every night. He comes to Type’s apartment after classes and rehearsals and he lounges on Type’s couch and they make dinner together and then because it gets too late, he just ends up sleeping over. 

Tharn takes that moment to sleepily shuffle into the bathroom and he drops a heavy head onto Type’s shoulder, “What are you laughing about?” 

He’d gone to bed shirtless but the man radiates heat and that warmth encompasses Type’s back. Type looks down at the left arm that winds itself around his stomach; at his name gleaming in red back at him and he covers it with his own hand. 

“Nothing. Go shower; we have class early today!” 

Tharn grins and presses a kiss to his ear lobe and he’s gone into the shower stall. 

It’s at that moment that Type realizes something and it makes his stomach fall quite unpleasantly. 

_ Ooo  _

“Why hasn’t Tharn fucked me yet?” 

The blunt question sends Champ into a coughing fit as his noodles go down the wrong airway. Type, being the little shit that he is, makes no move to help his dying friend and just continues into the kitchen to place his empty bowl into the sink. 

When the man can finally breathe, Champ croaks out, “One: too much information. Two: why the fuck would you ask me that right when I was slurping my soup? And three:  _ too much information sir _ !” 

“What’s too much information?” Techno comes out from the bathroom and Champ barely has a moment to cough out a weak protest before Type’s sporting an evil grin and turns to No. 

“I was asking Champ as to why Tharn won’t give me his big hard cock and pound me into the mattress all night long.” 

Of course Techno screams and claps his hands over his ears, “My ears! My poor virgin ears!! What the fuck is wrong with you? Who just asks people that?!” 

“Think of it as payback for the last time I stayed over here and you two horndogs decided that fucking loudly in your bedroom was the way to go _while I slept three feet away_. How’s that for too much information you ass?” Type snarks back and shit, he’s really enjoying the way No’s face looks like a tomato and Champ’s waiting for the floor to swallow him. 

Champ speaks first, face still bright red and refusing to look at his soulmate, “Okay, that’s on me. But why are we speaking about your sex life right now?” 

The return to his original point sobers up Type quickly and he’s looks forlornly at his hands, “My lack of a sex life. I mean, we’ve been together for a year and he hasn’t done anything more than just kiss me. He’ll kiss my neck but goes nowhere below that. Even when he’s touching me; his hands are on my waist but the second my shirt goes up, he’s backing away or he’s pulling it down looking like a kicked puppy.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move.” Techno suggests. His ears are bright red but he’s able to look Type in the eye. “You’ve told him about your past and yeah, you’re getting better with touching him and other people but I know you’ve still had some episodes. Maybe he doesn’t want to push you?” 

“But I initiate half our kisses now! And I once groped his ass and he still didn’t get the message.” 

Techno squeaks and he plugs his ears shut, “Gah why?! I didn’t need to know that!” 

“Oh stop being such a prude. You two are the horniest bastards I know. I’ve seen you pinch Champ’s ass in public once.” 

Champ’s groaning; he and Techno really need to work on toning down their PDA apparently. Running a hand through his hair, he looks at Type, “Us being horny bastards aside; have you tried just talking to Tharn? Have a conversation with him; tell him that you’re ready to move on from kissing into...ahem...him fucking you into the mattress?” 

Type looks contemplative and then stands up from the couch, “I guess I could try that. Thanks for dinner, boys. I’ll keep you updated.” 

He gives said boys a wave and ignores their indignant protests of not wanting updates. He’s too busy thinking of how to broach this topic to Tharn and wondering if he’s going to choke on something too. 

_ Ooo _

To his credit, Tharn merely stops breathing. 

“Shia! Take a breath! Don’t die on me!” Type thumps him on the back and Tharn takes an exaggerated breath. 

“Sorry. I’ll try and do better when my soulmate asks me why I haven’t fucked him yet.” 

Type flushes appropriately and he uses the throw pillow on the couch to smack Tharn, “Shut up; I’m being serious. We haven’t done more than kiss.” 

Tharn laughs and he joins Type on the couch. It says a lot about how far they’ve come when Type automatically reaches for him and curls up against Tharn’s chest. The bond hums between them and the lights of the apartment shine stark against their soul marks. 

“I wanted to give you more time sweet boy. Kissing seemed like something you were comfortable with and I didn’t want to push until you were one hundred percent ready.” 

“What- me cupping your ass wasn’t enough indication of that?” Type grouses and Tharn leans down to bop his nose with his own.

“It was, but that only means that you’re ready to have a conversation about this and yes, we do need to actually talk about it. Like who tops and what are you-”

“I want you to top.” 

And okay,  _ shit _ , Tharn wasn’t expecting that and he kind of forgets how to breathe again. Type smacks him on the chest again, “Stop doing that.” 

“Stop saying things that make me forget how to breathe! I’m only human, you know?” 

Type scoffs but he nuzzles closer to Tharn and both just breathe with each other for a minute. Then Type speaks first. He keeps his face smushed against Tharn’s chest because yes, he might have actually brought up the topic but he’s still embarrassed and he doesn’t want to see that smug little grin his soulmate often wears-  _ stupid smug bastard _ .  _ Why does Type even love him?  _

“I want this with you. I know it could go bad, that I might have an episode but I trust you enough that I want to  _ try _ . I haven’t...I’ve never been with anyone and I’m kinda freaking out now that I’m actually saying it out loud, and I know you’ve slept with other people before-”

“Wha- you do? Who told you that?” 

Type levels an unimpressed look at his soulmate, “Really? You were together with Tar for two years and you’re going to tell me you didn’t sleep together? That boy is the hetero-normative definition of a bottom with his stupid pouty lips and that whole  _ P’Thaaarn _ thing he does; you’re gonna tell me you never fucked him? Don’t even fucking lie to me! Oh my god is that why you won’t actually fuck me? Cause I’m too tall and I could easily top you and I’m not what you actually want-”

“Type.” His name cuts through like a steel blade and Type shuts up, his teeth coming together with an audible clack and his face is flaming. Shit what’s wrong with him? Why does he never think before he speaks and fuck he needs a filter for his mouth and-

Type’s inner monologue is rudely cut short because Tharn is standing up from the sofa and for a second Type’s stomach swoops unpleasantly because Tharn’s leaving him, he’s done with Type’s shit-

But no- he’s pulling Type up with him and Type barely has a moment to apologize for his stupid brain and mouth before he’s being kissed. 

And this is not one of their sweet kisses. This is not the soft nibbles that Tharn gives him as they curl up together and the little tugs on his ear lobes when he hugs Type from behind. 

This is... _ this is so much more _ . 

This is hands pressing against his waist and lips biting his own with punishing intent. This is Tharn sucking on his bottom lip and clutching Type close. This is Tharn absolutely plundering his mouth with his own, sliding his tongue in when Type moans and giving Type no space to breathe. 

When Tharn does pull away, he does not stop. His lips snake their way down to Type’s neck and then he’s  _ biting down  _ and Type’s insanely glad for the hands around his waist cause he doesn’t think his knees work anymore. 

“Fuck, Tharn!” Type groans and he’s leaning his head back because he wants more; fuck he wants  _ so much more _ .

“No sweetheart. That’s not how it’s going tonight.” And shit, was Tharn’s voice always that husky? But he’s looking at Type with a question in his eyes and Type knows what Tharn’s asking of him. Wants to know if they can push past the line they’ve been toeing this entire year. 

Type smiles at his soulmate and slides his own hands into Tharn’s hair, tugging at the little ends. 

“Then show me what it’s going to be like.” 

Tharn’s groan resonates in his own body and then those hands are sliding down from his waist to cup his ass and he’s tugging Type up. The boy jumps easily, ankles locking around Tharn’s waist and he groans as he feels Tharn’s hard length press against his thigh, heat and arousal shooting through him. 

He feels them walking backward towards the bed but Tharn turns at the last moment and he drops Type onto the bed, watching as he bounces once on the sheets. He pulls off his shirt, skin and muscles on display and levels hungry eyes at his soulmate. 

“I am going to  _ wreck  _ you.” 

“Oh god yes!” And he’s pulling Tharn down to hungrily kiss him. 

And really, Type needs to have some shame for how easy he is being for Tharn but can you fucking blame him? He’s 20 years old and he has a smoking hot soulmate who’s about to fuck him to the next universe; it’s not his fault he can’t control his mouth. 

At some point, Tharn’s lips leave his and Type whines at that; he loves Tharn’s kisses, wants more of them. But Tharn tells him to be patient and rucks up his t-shirt and the next second, he’s bending down to suck a dusky pink nipple into his hot mouth and Type’s forgetting all about regular kissing. 

One nipple is being laved at with a hot tongue and the other is being pinched with long fingers and Type is already so fucking hard in his shorts that it hurts. He clasps his fingers around his boyfriend’s face, trying to bring him up but Tharn resists and instead he moves down south, to the very prominent tent in Type’s pants. 

Without preamble, he’s pulling down the shorts and boxers and Type’s cock jumps up, head already smeared with precum. 

“Look at you...so fucking beautiful. And mine. All  _ mine _ .” 

Then without another word he bends down to press a kiss to the mushroom head and his tongue slips out to taste his slit and Type’s heart stutters in his chest. “Shit Tharn!” 

He’s breathless and fuck he can’t think straight but all he wants is for Tharn to keep going, wants to see Tharn; see  _ all of him _ and his fingers are reaching out for the man’s shorts.

“Take them off; I want to see you too.” 

To his absolute frustration, Tharn moves  _ off  _ the bed and Type is whining at the loss of heat against his skin and cock. But Tharn is grinning at him and says again as he bends down to root around in the cupboard against the wall, “Be patient you little minx.” 

“You try being this turned on and then practice patience. Fuck, what are you doing there?” 

“We need supplies.” And then he’s giving a little crow of triumph and he turns back around with condoms and a bottle of lube. 

“When the fuck did you get supplies? And is that  _ flavoured  _ lube?” 

Tharn shrugs and he drops the stuff on the bed, “I like strawberry. And I got them a while back; I wanted to be prepared.” 

Type’s snarky response dies on his lips after he takes his shirt off because Tharn’s finally pulling off his boxers and his dick flicks up to smack against his stomach and it leaves a wet mark against the skin. 

Holy  _ fuck _ . 

“Get back here  _ now _ .” Tharn’s laughing as he slides back onto the bed and Type kinda wants to smack him but he’s being kissed and fuck, he forgets why he was going to smack his stupid soulmate. 

The lips move down his neck and Type feels it nibble a nipple on its way down and he whimpers. But the lips keep moving lower and then that warm wet heat is finally encasing his cock and Type forgets to  _ breathe _ .

“Ungh Tharn,  _ fuck _ !” His hands are scrambling for purchase and then it lodges itself in Tharn’s hair and Type tugs. 

Tharn hums around his cock and Type lifts clear off the bed. He’s panting, whining, he’s  _ begging  _ as Tharn alternates between using those sinful lips to suck, lick and kiss Type’s cock. He tongues the heavy balls, wetting them and then making his way back up the hard length and Type thinks he might cry. The heat curls and grows in his belly and it rises over him and he’s gasping-  _ he wants _ \-  _ fuck _ ! 

There’s a finger playing against his entrance and it’s nothing, Tharn hasn’t even pushed it in but it feels like so  _ much _ and he tugs at Tharn’s hair to pull his mouth off, “Tharn- I’m gonna.. _ fuck yes-  _ just like that- wait Tharn!” 

Tharn stubbornly stays where he is and instead he flicks dark eyes upwards and it locks onto Type. From where he is, Type can see the muscles of his back flexing and rippling over the mandala tattoo that covers the expanse of skin (and hadn’t that been a treat to learn about) and his hand slips from Tharn’s neck and over the muscle. 

And then the bastard  _ swallows _ around him.

Type’s orgasm crashes into him like a tidal wave and he’s coming so hard he thinks he might have blacked out for a second. Tharn’s still sucking him, determined to get every last drop of cum pushing Type towards over sensitivity before finally pulling off with an obscene  _ pop _ . 

“Yum.” 

And holy shit, that’s stupidly hot and Type is surging upwards. But he doesn’t go for the kiss that Tharn’s expecting. Instead, he uses those thigh muscles and biceps that have been honed from years of playing soccer and he flips Tharn easily. 

Now Tharn’s the one flat on his back and their new position allows for his dick to rub teasingly against Type’s cheeks. He groans because he’s so hard and if Type grinds down on him any longer, Tharn’s about to come before he can actually fuck his soulmate. 

“No more playing around. You’re going to fuck me now.” Type says and he’s reaching for the lube and condom that Tharn left on the bed. He chucks the condom at Tharn’s chest and moves back so Tharn can roll the plastic down his dick.

“So bossy. I still need to prep you-”

The click of the lube cap opening silences him and Tharn thinks that maybe he’s hallucinating because there is no way Type is pouring the slick over his own fingers and reaching behind him. 

But he is. 

Heavenly Buddha;  _ have mercy.  _

Type groans as he slides two fingers at once deep into his hole and then scissors them. He grins at the open mouthed man below him, “What? Did you think I’ve never done this before? What do you think is in that box under the bed? Chocolate?” 

Tharn’s dead. He’s dead and he’s in heaven because fuck that means that Type’s stretched himself out with his fingers and  _ toys-  _ and he’s made himself come with those and fuck he’s probabaly done it on this bed and on the couch and  _ Christ- Tharn is going to die _ . 

Type moans above him and Tharn looks down to see he’s already three fingers deep and his cock lets out another spurt of precome. Type’s hard again too and his knees are trembling with the force of staying upright. 

Tharn reaches out to tangle his hand in Type’s free hand, “Type- Type now. I need you  _ now _ .” 

And Type apparently agrees because he’s pulling his fingers out and they’re sopping wet -  _ how much lube did he even use? _ \- but Tharn forgets all about it because Type is sinking down and  _ mother above _ … 

Type is  _ hot  _ and  _ tight  _ around him and he fucking slides down Tharn so easily with a high-pitched keen. He goes down inch by inch and when Tharn tries to move, Type uses his hands to hold down the man beneath him. 

“Not yet.” He bottoms out and Tharn’s trying to pull air into his lungs because he can feel every inch of Type’s walls just sucking him in and then because his soulmate apparently hates him- Type just fucking  _ stays  _ there. 

Tharn wants so much for him move, to bounce, to do fucking anything because  _ fuck-  _

Type pants and then he’s bowing down and pressing a kiss to the corner of Tharn’s lips.

Against the sweaty skin, he whispers out, “Take me. I’m yours.” 

And Tharn  _ loses it _ . 

With a guttural growl that comes from god knows where, he’s flipping Type into their original position and then he pulls back and  _ thrusts _ . 

The scream that rips itself from Type’s throat is high and choked and Tharn does not let up. He pounds into Type; into that sweet  _ sweet  _ heat and the bond croons. 

“My boy- my sweet boy. Look how you opened yourself for me- next time you’ll let me do that won’t you? I’ll open you so nicely- finger you till you’re coming from my fingers first then I’ll fuck you over the couch- you’d like that wouldn’t you? My sweet my  _ tilak-  _ mine; you’re all mine. You’re so gorgeous for me- made  _ for  _ me- made to love me. Fuck  _ Type _ ; how could you think I would ever want someone else? I love you.”

And Type can’t help it. 

The tears spill from his eyes easily and he pulls Tharn down to shove his face against the musician’s chest. 

_ This _ ..this is what he’d wanted- what he’d  _ always wanted _ . The love of another- to feel loved, cherished and desired. To know that someone could look at him and find him to be the answer to their questions. To be touched with such love and want that it would forever wipe away those terrible memories of his past. 

He knows the memory of his trauma won’t ever go away but with Tharn’s help, they’re painted over with good things. With the memory of Tharn kissing him, of Tharn pulling him to dance in the middle of their apartment, of Tharn hugging him when he wakes up with a nightmare; of  _ Tharn _ . 

Tharn’s smile, his love and his care; it washes over Type’s trauma and makes it something that he can face without cowering in fear. 

He’s so,  _ so  _ happy in this moment and with the addition of Tharn’s words (filth aside); he can’t help but cry. 

But Tharn feels the hot tears against his skin and he immediately stops, pulling Type away from his chest to stare at him with wide eyes full of fear, “Shit Type! Type- sweetheart I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you hurt? Talk to me!” 

He moves to pull out but Type locks his ankles around the expanse of his back and holds Tharn in place. 

He leans up to press a kiss between the worried furrow of Tharn’s eyebrows, “I’m okay. I’m crying happy tears, I promise.” 

“Really?” 

“Yes. I never- never thought I’d have this. Not just sex but love; love with another person who wasn’t my family. I thought I’d be alone for the rest of life, never able to keep my past where it belonged. But you did and I love you. I’m so fucking glad I saw you that day; I know I don’t say it enough but I am. I’m happy and I love you. I love you Tharn.” 

And he’s peppering little kisses to Tharn’s face and fuck is Tharn crying too? 

“I love you too Type. My sweet, sweet boy. God I love you.” 

He swipes a hand under Type’s eyes to wipe away his tears and leans down to press their foreheads together. His hands move down, finding purchase under Type’s thighs and he pushes them further apart, breaking Type’s hold around him. 

“I love you.” And then he’s thrusting upwards and it hits right against  _ that spot _ and Type cries out and he’s biting down on the meat of Tharn’s shoulder. 

The apartment is filled with the obscene noise of flesh hitting flesh, the squelch of lube and cum, of Type’s moans, of Tharn’s growls and damn it’s a good thing that the walls are so thick because Tharn does not want anyone to ever hear the noises coming from the boy underneath him. They are for him and him  _ alone _ . 

“Fuck Type; I’m close. Come on baby- come with me.” Tharn gasps out and he moves to wrap his hand around Type’s cock to help him. But Type pulls it away. 

“With your cock- _ungh yes_ \- make me come just with your cock- _fuck there-_ _right there right there_! _Fuck_!”

And Type’s coming, thick hot ropes of white spurting out and it paints his dark flushed skin and some of it falls on Type’s lips and the little shit pokes his tongue out and licks his lips clean. 

Tharn’s control  _ snaps.  _ The walls are squeezing around him and he’s coming with a bellow and he fucks Type right through his orgasm until his hips are stuttering and then he’s falling forward, his forearms stopping him from crushing the man underneath him. 

“Fuck; I think I blacked out for a second.” 

Type giggles - fucking  _ giggles  _ and Tharn can’t help it. He’s laughing too and he presses a sweet kiss to Type’s flushed skin. 

“I love you. Was that okay?” 

“It was perfect. But now you’re crushing me; get off you fucking behemoth; you’re heavy.” 

Tharn laughs and moves off of Type, sliding out in the process and they both hiss at the sensation. Tharn takes a moment to look at Type’s abused hole as he disposes of the condom; how the red skin gapes and flutters, longing to be filled again. 

_ In an hour _ ; Tharn promises himself. He did tell Type he was going to fuck him over the couch and that’s a vow he plans to keep. 

He grabs a washcloth from their bathroom and returns to find Type stretching out his legs and groaning. 

“Shia- you tried to turn me into a fucking pretzel!” 

“You still liked it.” 

“...shut up and wipe me clean.” 

Tharn does and he drops the wet cloth and their clothes back onto the floor, flicks off the lights and then he pulls Type close against his chest. 

He doesn’t say anything because there’s nothing more to be said. They don’t need words anymore between them. 

Tharn just presses a kiss to Type’s sweaty hair and smiles when he feels Type do the same against his chest. In a few minutes, sleep takes over both of them. 

In the darkness, their soul marks gleam red and the bond pulses between them. 

It is content. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowee....there you have it! 
> 
> Thank you once again to every single person who left me kudos, comments and so much love. This chapter is dedicated to every single one of you. 
> 
> See you all soon!


	12. ANNOUNCEMENT

To anyone who thought this was a new a chapter... it is not. 

But I'm not completely heartless. I promised you more of these boys and this world and well... you're gonna get it! 

**SAY HELLO TO THE RANG DE SERIES!!!!**

You're gonna get snapshots and snippets and more angst, love, smut and our boys being soft clowns that we stan :D I might take some prompts for this as well but I'm not too sure at the moment. I've already started writing some stuff so you won't have to wait long, I promise! 

This is my thank you to everyone who loved this story and gave me so much love and support as I updated the chapters. You guys made me happier that you will ever know! So enjoy this as we all wait for season 2 and balcony scenes and car scenes and more jealousy and gaaah i'm excited!!! 

See you all soon! 

fanficchica <3 

**Author's Note:**

> Shall I continue, dear waanjai? I'm kidding this story has already been written...I'm posting it.
> 
> Drop me a review to let me know if you liked it and come yell at me on tumblr: indiefanficchica


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